
Class o - , 

Book . 7 '' -- 

CopyrightN ! 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



OTHER BOOKS BY DR. COOK 
Through the First Antarctic Night 

A Narrative of the Belgian South Polar Expedition. 

To the Top of the Continent 

Exploration in Sub-Arctic Alaska — The First Ascent 
of Mt. McKinley 




FREDERICK A. COOK 



I LIBBAJJV AMO AJtCarVTB3 j 

I JUN.I7 1914 
j Aoc. No. 



MY ATTAINMENT OF 
THE POLE 



Being the Record of the Expedition 
that First Reached the Boreal Center 

1907-1909 

With the Final Summary of 
the Polar Controversy 



by 

DR. FREDERICK A. COOK 



NEW YORK 

THE POLAR PUBLISHING CO. 

MARBRIDGE BUILDING 
1911 






Copyright 1911 

BY 

Dr. Frederick A. Cook 






l b* 



Press of The Lent & Graff Company 
137-139 East 25th Street, New York 



©CI.A295838 



To the Pathfinders 



To the Indian who invented pemmican and snowshoes; 

To the Eskimo who gave the art of sled traveling ; 

To this twin family of wild folk who have no flag 

Goes the first credit. 

To the forgotten trail makers whose book of experience 
has been a guide; 

To the fallen victors whose bleached bones mark steps 
in the ascent of the ladder of latitudes ; 

To these, the pathfinders — past, present and future — 

I inscribe the first page. 

In the ultimate success there is glory enough 

To go to the graves of the dead and to the heads 
of the living. 



PREFACE 

This narrative has been prepared as a general out- 
line of my conquest of the North Pole. In it the scien- 
tific data, the observations, every phase of the pioneer 
work with its drain of human energy has been presented 
in its proper relation to a strange cycle of events. The 
camera has been used whenever possible to illustrate 
the progress of the expedition as well as the wonders 
and mysteries of the Arctic wilds. Herein, with due 
after-thought and the better perspective afforded by 
time, the rough field notes, the disconnected daily tab- 
ulations and the records of instrumental observations, 
every fact, every optical and mental impression, has 
been re-examined and re-arranged to make a concise 
record of successive stages of progress to the boreal 
center. If I have thus worked out an understandable 
panorama of our environment, then the misson of this 
book has served its purpose. 

Much has been said about absolute geographic 
proof of an explorer's work. History demonstrates that 
the book which gives the final authoritative narrative is 
the test of an explorer's claims. By it every traveler 
has been measured. From the time of the discovery of 
America to the piercing of darkest Africa and the open- 



viii PREFACE 

ing of Thibet, men who have sought the truth of the 
claims of discovery have sought, not abstract figures, 
but the continuity of the narrative in the pages of the 
traveler's final book. In such a narrative, after due 
digestion and assimilation, there is to be found either 
the proof or the disproof of the claims of a discoverer. 

In such narratives as the one herewith presented, 
subsequent travelers and other experts, with no other 
interests to serve except those of fair play, have crit- 
ically examined the material. With the lapse of time 
accordingly, when partisanship feelings have been 
merged in calm and conscientious judgment, history has 
always finally pronounced a fair and equitable verdict. 

In a similar way my claim of being first to reach 
the North Pole will rest upon the data presented be- 
tween the covers of this book. 

In working out the destiny of this Expedition, and 
this book which records its doings, I have to acknowl- 
edge my gratitude for the assistance of many people. 
First among those to whom I am deeply indebted is 
John R. Bradley. By his liberal hand this Expedition 
was given life, and by his loyal support and helpfulness 
I was enabled to get to my base of operations at Annoa- 
tok. By his liberal donations of food we were enabled to 
live comfortably during the first year. To John R. 
Bradley, therefore, belong the first fruits of the Polar 
conquest. 

A tribute of praise must be placed on record for 
Rudolph Francke. After the yacht returned, he was 
my sole civilized helper and companion. The faithful 
manner in which he performed the difficult duties as- 
signed to him, and his unruffled cheerfulness during the 



PREFACE ix 

trying weeks of the long night, reflect a large measure 
of credit. 

The band of little people of the Farthest North 
furnished without pay the vital force and the primitive 
ingenuity without which the quest of the Pole would be 
a hopeless task. These boreal pigmies with golden 
skins, with muscles of steel, and hearts as finely human 
as those of the highest order of man, performed a task 
that cannot be too highly commended. The two boys, 
Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shook, deserve a place on the tab- 
let of fame. They followed me with a perseverance 
which demonstrates one of the finest qualities of savage 
life. They shared with me the long run of hardship; 
they endured without complaint the unsatisfied hunger, 
the unquenched thirst, and the maddening isolation, with 
no thought of reward except that which comes from an 
unselfish desire to follow one whom they chose to regard 
as a friend. If a noble deed was ever accomplished, 
these boys did it, and history should record their heroic 
effort with indelible ink. 

At the request of Mrs. Cook, the Canadian Gov- 
ernment sent its ship, the "Arctic," under Captain Ber- 
nier, with supplementary supplies for me, to Etah. 
These were left under the charge of Mr. Harry Whit- 
ney. The return to civilization was made in comfort, 
by the splendid manner in which this difficult problem 
was carried out. To each and all in this combination I 
am deeply indebted. 

With sweet memories of the warm hospitality of 
Danes in Greenland, I here subscribe my never-to-be- 
forgotten appreciation. I am also indebted to the 
Royal Greenland Trading Company and to the United 



x PREFACE. 

S. S. Company for many favors; and, above all, am I 
grateful to the Danes as a nation, for the whole-souled 
demonstrations of friendship and appreciation at 
Copenhagen. 

In the making of this book I was relieved of much 
of the routine editorial work by Mr. T. Everett Harry. 
By his ceaseless study of the subject and his rearrange- 
ment of material, a book of better literary workmanship 
has been made. For his long, friendly helpfulness, this 
acknowledgment is but a small reward. 

I am closing the pages of this book with a good deal 
of regret, for, in the effort to make the price of this 
volume so low that it can go into every home, the need 
for brevity has dictated the number of pages. My last 
word to all — to friends and enemies — is, if you must 
pass judgment, study the problem carefully. You are 
as capable of forming a correct judgment as the self- 
appointed experts. One of Peary's captains has said 
"that he knew, but never would admit, that Peary 
did not reach the Pole." Rear Admiral Chester 
has said the same about me, but he "admits" it in big, 
flaming type. With due respect to these men, in justice 
to the cause, I am bound to say that these, and others of 
their kind, who necessarily have a blinding bias, are not 
better able to judge than the average American citizen. 

If you have read this book, then read Mr. Peary's 
"North Pole." Put the two books side by side. When 
making comparisons, remember that my attainment of 
the Pole was one year earlier than Mr. Peary's claim; 
that my narrative was written and printed months be- 
fore that of Mr. Peary; that the Peary narrative is such 
that Rear Admiral Schley has said — "After reading 



PREFACE xi 

the published accounts daily and critically of both 
claimants, I was forced to the conclusion from their 
striking similarity that each of you was the eye-witness 
of the other's success. Without collusion, it would 
have been impossible to have written accounts so 
similar." 

This opinion, coming as it does from one of the 
highest Arctic and Naval authorities, is endorsed by 
practically all Arctic explorers. Captain E. B. Bald- 
win goes even further, and proves my claim from the 
pages of Peary's own book. Governor Brown of 
Georgia, after a critical examination of the two reports, 
says, "If it is true, as Peary would like us to believe, 
that Cook has given us a gold brick, then Peary has 
offered a paste diamond." 

Since my account was written and printed first, 
the striking analogy apparent in the Peary pages either 
proves my position at the Pole or it convicts Peary of 
using my data to fill out and impart verisimilitude to 
his own story of a second victory. 

Much against my will I find myself compelled to 
uncover the dark pages of the selfish unfairness of rival 
interests. In doing so my aim is not to throw doubt and 
distrust on Mr. Peary's success, but to show his incentive 
and his methods in attempting to leave the sting of dis- 
credit upon me. I would prefer to close my eye to a 
long series of wrong doings as I have done in the 
passing years, but the Polar controversy cannot be 
understood unless we get the perspective of the man 
who has forced it. Heretofore I have allowed others 
to expend their argumentative ammunition. The ques- 
tions which I have raised are minor points. On the 



xii PREFACE 

main question of Polar attainment there is not now 
room for doubt. The Pole has been honestly reached — 
the American Eagle has spread its wings of glory over 
the world's top. Whether there is room for one or two 
or more under those wings, I am content to let the 
future decide. 

Frederick A. Cook. 
The Waldorf-Astoria, 

New York, June 15, 1911. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I THE POLAR FIGHT .... 1 

II INTO THE BOREAL WILDS . . 23 

The Yacht Bradley Leaves Gloucester — Invades the Magic 
Waters of the Arctic Seas — Recollections of Bohiood 
Ambitions — Beyond the Arctic Chicle — The Weaving of 
the Polar Spell 

III THE DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR 

QUEST 42 

On the Frigid Pathway of Three Centuries of Heroic 
Martyrs — Meeting the Strange People of the Farthest 
North — The Life of the Stone Age — On the Chase With 
the Eskimos — Manee and Spartan Eskimo Courage 

IV TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION . 62 

Exciting Hunts for Game With the Eskimos — Arrival at 
Etah — Speedy Trip to Annoatok, the Windy Place, Where 
Supplies are Found in Abundance — Everything Auspicious 
for Dash to the Pole — Determination to Essay the Effort 
— Bradley Informed — Debark for the Pole — The Yacht 
Returns 

V PREPARATIONS FOR THE POLAR DASH 73 

An Entire Tribe Breathlessly and Feverishly at Work — 
Mapping Out the Polar Campaign 

VI THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS . 81 

Tribe of Two Hundred and Fifty Natives Busily Begin 
Preparations for the Polar Dash — Exciting Hunts for the 
Unicorn and Other Game From Annoatok to Cape York — 
Every Animal Caught Bearing Upon the Success of the 
Venture — The Gray-Green Gloom of Twilight in Which 
the Eskimo Women Communicate With the Souls of the 
Dead 

VII FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 99 

Hunting in the Arctic Twilight — Pursuing Bear, Caribou 
and Smaller Game in Semi-Gloom 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

VIII THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE 

WALRUS 114 

Desperate and Dangerous Hunting, in Order to Secure Ade- 
quate Supplies for the Polar Dash — A Thrilling and Ad- 
venturous Race Is Made Over Frozen Seas and Icy Moun- 
tains to the Walrus Grounds — Terrific Explosion of the Ice 
on Which the Party Hunts — Success in Securing Over 
Seven Sled-Loads of Blubber Makes the Pole Seem Nearer 
— An Arctic Tragedy 

IX MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER . 130 

The Equipment and Its Problems — New Art in the Making 
of Sledges Combining Lightness — Progress of the Prepara- 
tions — Christmas With Its Glad Tidings and Auguries for 
Success in Quest of the Pole 

X EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE . . 149 

The Campaign Opens — Last Weeks of the Polar Night; — 
Advance Parties Sent Out — Awaiting the Dawn 

XI EXPLORING A NEW PASS OVER 

ACPOHON 162 

From the Atlantic Waters at Flagler Bay to the Pacific 
Waters at Bay Fiord — The Mecca of the Musk Ox — Battles 
With the Bovine Monsters of the Arctic — Sunrise and the 
Glory of Sunset 

XII IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END . 176 

Sverdrup's New Wonderland — Feasting on Game En Route 

to svartevoeg flrst shadow observations flghts wlth 

Wolves and Bears — The Joys of Zero's Lowest — Threshold 
of the Unknown 

XIII THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 194 

By Forced Efforts and the Use of Axes Speed is Made Over 
the Land-Adhering Pack Ice of Polar Sea — The Most Dif- 
ficult Travel of the Proposed Journey Successfully Ac- 
complished — Regretful Parting With the Eskimos 

XIV OVER THE POLAR SEA TO THE BIG 

LEAD 208 

With Two Eskimo Companions, the Race Poleward Con- 
tinues Over Rough and Difficult Ice — The Last Land Fades 



TABLE OF CONTENTS xv 

PAGE 

Behind — Mirages Leap Into Being and Weave a Mystic 
Speix — A Swirling Scene of Moving Ice and Fantastic Ef- 
fects — Standing on a Hill of Ice, a Black, Writhing, Snaky 
Cut Appears in the Ice Beyond — The Big Lead — A Night of 
Anxiety — Five Hundred Miles Already Covered — Four Hun- 
dred to the Pole 

XV CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE . 221 

Crossing the Lead — The Thin Ice Heaves Like a Sheet of 
Rubber — Creeping Forward Cautiously, the Two Dangerous 
Miles are Covered — Bounding Progress Made Over Improving 
Ice — The Fdist Hurricane — Dogs Buried and Frozen Into 
Masses in Drifts of Snow — The Ice Parts Through the Igloo 
— Waking to Find One's Self Falling Into the Cold Sea 

XVI LAND DISCOVERED .... 232 

Fighting Progress Through Cutting Cold and Terrific 
Storms — Life Becomes a Monotonous Routine of Hardship — 
The Pole Inspires With Its Resistless Lure — New Land Dis- 
covered Beyond the Eighty-Fourth Parallel — More Than 
Two Hundred Miles From Svartevoeg — The First Six Hun- 
dred Miles Covered 

XVII BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE . 248 

With a New Spring to Weary Legs Bradley Land is Left 
Behind — Feeling the Aching Vastness of the World Be- 
fore Man Was Made — Curious Grimaces of the Midnight 
Sun — Sufferings Increase — By Persistent and Laborious 
Progress Another Hundred Miles is Covered 

XVIII OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY . 260 

The Maddening Tortures of a World Where Ice Water 
Seems Hot, and Cold Knives Burn One's Hands — Anguished 
Progress on the Last Stretch of Two Hundred Miles Over 
Anchored Land Ice — Days of Suffering and Gloom — The 
Time of Despair — "It Is Well to Die," Says Ah-Wb-Lah; 
"Beyond is Impossible" 

XIX TO THE POLE— LAST HUNDRED 

MILES 269 

Over Plains of Gold and Seas of Palpitating Color the Dog 
Teams, With Noses Down, Tails Erect, Dash Spiritedly 
Like Chariot Horses — Chanting Love Songs the Eskimos 
Follow With Swinging Step — Tired Eyes Open to New 



vi TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Glory — Step by Step, With Thumping Hearts the Earth's 
Apex Is Neared — At Last! The Goal Is Reached! The Stars 
and Stripes are Flung to the Frigid Breezes of the North 
Pole! 

XX AT THE NORTH POLE ... 286 

Observations at the Pole — Meteorological and Astronomi- 
cal Phenomena — Singular Stability and Uniformity of the 
Thermometer and Barometer — A Spot Where One's Shadow- 
Is the Same Length Each Hour of the Twenty-Four — 
Eight Polar Altitudes of the Sun 

XXI THE RETURN— A BATTLE FOR LIFE 314 

Turned Backs to the Pole and to the Sun — The Dogs, 
Seemingly Glad and Seemingly Sensible That Their Noses 
Were Pointed Homeward, Barked Shrilly — S.uffering From 
Intense Depression — The Dangers of Moving Ice, of Storms 
and Slow Starvation — The Thought of Five Hundred and 
Twenty Miles to Land Causes Despatr 

XXII BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 326 

The Return — Deluded by Drift and Fog — Carried Astray 
Over an Unseen Deep — Travel for Twenty Days in a World 
of Mists, With the Terror of Death — Awakened From 
Sleep by a Heavenly Song — The First Bird — Following 
the Winged Harbinger— We Reach Land — A Bleak, Barren 
Island Possessing the Charm of Paradise — After Days 
Verging on Starvation, We Enjoy a Feast of Uncookep 
Game 

XXIII OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND . . 341 

Hours of Icy Torture — A Frigid Summer Storm in the Berg- 
Driven Arctic Sea — A Perilous Dash Through Twisting 
Lanes of Opening Water in a Canvas Canoe — The Drive of 
Hunger 

XXIV UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE . 355 

By Boat and Sledge, Over the Drifting Ice and Stormy Seas 
of Jones Sound — From Rock to Rock in Quest of Food — 
Making New Weapons 

XXV BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 365 

Dangerous Adventures in a Canvas Boat — On the Verge of 



TABLE OF CONTENTS xvii 

PAGE 

Starvation, a Massive Brute, Weighing Three Thousand 
Pounds, Is Captured After a Fifteen-Hour Struggle — 
Robbed of Precious Food by Hunory Bears 

XXVI BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 378 

An Ancient Cave Explored for Shelter — Death by Starva- 
tion Averted by Hand-to-Hand Encounters With Wild 
Animals 

XXVII A NEW ART OF CHASE ... 393 

Three Weeks Before the Sunset of 1908 — Revelling in an 
Eden of Game — Peculiarities of Animals of the Arctic — 
How Nature Dictates Animal Color — The Quest of Small 
Life 

XXVIII A HUNDRED NIGHTS IN AN UNDER- 
GROUND DEN .... 406 

Living Like Men of the Stone Age — The Desolation of the 
Long Night — Life About Cape Sparbo — Preparing Equip- 
ment for the Return to Greenland — Sunrise, February 11, 
1909 

XXIX HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 

AND HALF-FILLED STOMACHS . 425 

Three Hundred Miles Through Storm and Snow and Up- 
lifted Mountains of Ice Troubles — Discover Two Islands — 
Annoatok Is Reached — Meeting Harry Whitney — News of 
Peary's Seizure of Supplies 

XXX ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK . . 447 

Eleven Hundred Miles Southward Over Sea and Land — At 
Etah — Overland to the Walrus Grounds — Eskimo Comedies 
and Tragedies — A Record Run Over Melville Bay — First 
News From Passing Ships — The Eclipse of the Sun — South- 
ward by Steamer Godthaab 

XXXI FROM GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 463 

Forewarning of the Polar Controversy — Banquet at 
Eggedesminde — On Board the Hans Egede — Cablegrams 
Sent From Lerwick — The Ovation at Copenhagen — Be- 
wildered Amidst the General Enthusiasm — Peary's First 
Messages — Embark on Oscar II for New York 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



XXXII COPENHAGEN TO THE UNITED 

STATES 476 

Across the Atlantic — Reception in New Yoek — Bewildering 
Cyclone of Events — Inside News op the Peary Attack — 
How the Web of Shame Was Woven 

XXXIII THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 507 

Peary and His Past — His Dealing With Rival Explorers — 
The Death of Astrup — The Theft of the "Great Iron 
Stone," the Natives' Sole Source of Iron 

XXXIV THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY . . 521 

The Bribed, Faked and Forged News Items — The Pro-Peary 
Money Powers Encourage Perjury — Mt. McKinley Honestly 
Climbed — How, for Peary, a Similar Peak Was Faked 

XXXV THE DUNKLE-LOOSE FORGERY . 535 

Its Pro-Peary Making 

XXXVI HOW A GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY PROS- 
TITUTED ITS NAME . . . 541 

The Washington Verdict — The Copenhagen Verdict 

RETROSPECT 557 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Frederick A. Cook .... Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

On the Chase for Bear . . . . 78 

The Box-House at Annoatok and Its Winter En- 
vironment . . . . .78 

Man's Prey of the Arctic Sea — Walrus Asleep . 88 

The Helpers — Northernmost Man and His Wife . 90 ' 

Rudolph Francke in Arctic Costume . . 114 

Midnight ...... 130 

"A Panorama of Black Lacquer and Silver" . 130 

A Mecca of Musk Ox Along Eureka Sound . . 152 

A Native Helper ..... 152 

Ah-We-Lah's Prospective Wife . . . 152 

The Capture of a Bear .... 184 

Rounding Up a Herd of Musk Oxen . . . 184 

Along the Edge of the Polar Sea — Last Land's End 190 

svartevoeg camping 500 mlles from the pole . 194 

Dashing Forward en Route to the Pole . . 202 

Departure of Supporting Party . . . 206 

A Breathing Spell .... 206 

Poleward! ...... 206 

"The Igloo Built, We Prepare for Our Daily Camp" 238 

Bradley Land Discovered .... 244 

Submerged Island of Polar Sea . . . 244 

Going Beyond the Bounds of Life . . . 244 

Camping to Eat and Take Observations . . 256 

On Again ! . . . . . .256 

Swift Progress Over Smooth Ice . . . 264 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



Building an Igloo ..... 264? 

A Lifeless Would of Cold and Ice . . . 264 

"Too Weary to Build Igloos, We Used the Silk Tent" 278 

"Across Seas of Crystal Glory to the Boreal Centre" 278 

Mending Near the Pole .... 282 

At the Pole — "We Were the Only Pulsating 

Creatures in a Dead World of Ice" . . 286 

Observation Determining the Pole — Photograph 

From Original Note .... 292 

First Camp at the Pole, April 21, 1908 . . 298 

"With Eager Eyes We Searched the Dusky Plains of 
Crystal, but There was No Land, No Life, to 
Relieve the Purple Run of Death" . . 310 

Record Left in Brass Tube at North Pole . 312 

"Miles and Miles of Desolation" . . . 324 

Homeward Bound ..... 324 

Back to Land and Back to Life — Awakened by a 

Winged Harbinger .... 332 

Saved From Starvation — The Result of One of Our 

Last Cartridges .... 336 

E-Tuk-I-Shook Waiting for a Seal at a Blow-Hole 356 

Toward Cape Sparbo in Canvas Boat . . t 370 

Food and Fuel — Prize of a 15-Hour Battle . 370 

Punctured Canvas Boat in Which We Paddled 1,000 

Miles . . . . . .380 

Famine Days, When Only Stray Birds Prevented 

Starvation ..... 380 

Den in Which Were Spent 100 Double Nights . 380 

Bull Fights With the Musk Ox About Cape Sparbo 384 

Governor Kraul in His Study . . . 458 

Arrival at Upernavik .... 458 

"The Mother of Seals" and Her Deserted Child . 520 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



My Attainment of the Pole 



THE POLAR FIGHT 

On April 21, 1908, I reached a spot on the silver- 
shining desert of boreal ice whereat a wild wave of joy 
filled my heart. I can remember the scene distinctly — 
it will remain one of those comparatively few mental 
pictures which are photographed with a terribly vivid 
distinctness of detail, because of their emotional effect, 
during everyone's existence, and which reassert them- 
selves in the brain like lightning flashes in stresses of 
intense emotion, in dreams, in the delirium of sickness, 
and possibly in the hour of death. 

I can see the sun tying low above the horizon, 
which glittered here and there in shafts of light like 
the tip of a long, circular, silver blade. The globe of 
fire, veiled occasionally by purplish, silver-shot mists, 
was tinged with a faint, burning lilac. Through open- 
ing cracks in the constantly moving field of ice, cold 
strata of air rose, deflecting the sun's rays in every 
direction, and changing the vision of distant ice irregu- 
larities with a deceptive perspective, as an oar blade 
seen in the depth of still water. 

Huge phantom-shapes took form about me; they 
were nebulous, their color purplish. About the horizon 



2 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

moved what my imagination pictured as the ghosts 
of dead armies — strange, gigantic, wraith-like shapes 
whose heads rose above the horizon as the heads of a 
giant army appearing over the summits of a far-away 
mountain. They moved forward, retreated, diminished 
in size, and titanically reappeared again. Above them, 
in the purple mists and darker clouds, shifted scintil- 
lantly waving flashes of light, orange and crimson, the 
ghosts of their earthly battle banners, wind-tossed, 
golden and bloodstained. 

I stood gazing with wonder, half-appalled, for- 
getting that these were mirages produced by cold air 
and deflected light rays, and feeling only as though I 
were beholding some vague revelation of victorious 
hosts, beings of that other world which in olden times, it 
is said, were conjured at Endor. It seemed fitting that 
they should march and remarch about me; that the low 
beating of the wind should suddenly swell into throb- 
bing martial music. For that moment I was intoxi- 
cated. I stood alone, apart from my two Eskimo com- 
panions, a shifting waste of purple ice on every side, 
alone in a dead world — a world of angry winds, eternal 
cold, and desolate for hundreds of miles in every direc- 
tion as the planet before man was made. 

I felt in my heart the thrill which any man must 
feel when an almost impossible but dearly desired work 
is attained — the thrill of accomplishment with which a 
poet must regard his greatest masterpiece, which a 
sculptor must feel when he puts the finishing touch to 
inanimate matter wherein he has expressed consum- 
mately a living thought, which a conqueror must feel 
when he has mastered a formidable alien army. Stand- 



THE QUESTION OF PIN-POINT ACCURACY 3 

ing on this spot, I felt that I, a human being, with all 
of humanity's frailties, had conquered cold, evaded 
famine, endured an inhuman battling with a rigorous, 
infuriated Nature in a soul-racking, body-sapping 
journey such as no man perhaps had ever made. I 
had proved myself to myself, with no thought at the 
time of any worldy applause. Only the ghosts about 
me, which my dazzled imagination evoked, celebrated 
the glorious thing with me — a thing in which no human 
being could have shared. Over and over again I re- 
peated to myself that I had reached the North Pole, 
and the thought thrilled through my nerves and veins 
like the shivering sound of silver bells. 

That was my hour of victory. It was the climac- 
teric hour of my life. The vision and the thrill, despite 
all that has passed since then, remain, and will remain 
with me as long as life lasts, as the vision and the thrill 
of an honest, actual accomplishment. 

That I stood at the time on the very pivotal pin- 
point of the earth I do not and never did claim ; I may 
have, I may not. In that moving world of ice, of con- 
stantly rising mists, with a low-lying sun whose rays 
are always deflected, such an ascertainment of actual 
position, even with instruments in the best workable 
condition, is, as all scientists will agree, impossible. 
That I reached the North Pole approximately, and 
ascertained my location as accurately, as painstakingly, 
as the terrestrial and celestial conditions and the best in- 
struments would allow; that I thrilled with victory, 
and made my claim on as honest, as careful, as scientific 
a basis of observations and calculations as any human 
being could, I do emphatically assert. That any man, 



4 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

in reaching this region, could do more than I did to 
ascertain definitely the mathematical Pole, and that any 
more voluminous display of figures could substantiate 
a claim of greater accuracy, I do deny. I believe still 
what I told the world when I returned, that I am the 
first white man to reach that spot known as the North 
Pole as far as it is, or ever will be, humanly possible to 
ascertain the location of that spot. 

Few men in all history, I am inclined to believe, 
have ever been made the subject of such vicious at- 
tacks, of such malevolent assailing of character, of such 
a series of perjured and forged charges, of such a wide- 
spread and relentless press persecution, as I; and few 
men, I feel sure, have ever been made to suffer so bit- 
terly and so inexpressibly as I because of the assertion 
of my achievement. So persistent, so egregious, so 
overwhelming were the attacks made upon me that for 
a time my spirit was broken, and in the bitterness of my 
soul I even felt desirous of disappearing to some remote 
corner of the earth, to be forgotten. I knew that envy 
was the incentive to all the unkind abuses heaped upon 
me, and I knew also that in due time, when the public 
agitation subsided and a better perspective followed, 
the justice of my claim would force itself to the inevita- 
ble light of truth. 

With this confidence in the future, I withdrew from 
the envious, money-waged strife to the calm and rest- 
fulness of my own family circle. The campaign of in- 
famy raged and spent its force. The press lined up 
with this dishonest movement by printing bribed, faked 
and forged news items, deliberately manufactured by 
my enemies to feed a newspaper hunger for sensation, 



THE UNGRACIOUS POLAR CONTROVERSY 5 

In going away for a rest it did not seem prudent to 
take the press into my confidence, a course which re- 
sulted in the mean slurs that I had abandoned my cause. 
This again was used by my enemies to blacken my char- 
acter. In reality, I had tried to keep the ungracious 
Polar controversy within the bounds of decent, gentle- 
manly conduct ; but indecency had become the keynote, 
and against this, mild methods served no good purpose. 
I preferred, therefore, to go away and allow the 
atmosphere to clear of the stench stirred up by rival 
interest; but while I was away, my enemies were 
watched, and I am here now to uncover the darkest cam- 
paign of bribery and conspiracy ever forged in a strife 
for honor. 

Now that my disappointment, my bitterness has 
passed, that my hurt has partly healed, I have deter- 
mined to tell the whole truth about myself, about the 
charges made against me, and about those by whom the 
charges were made. Herein, FOR THE FIRST 
TIME, I will tell how and why I believed I reached the 
North Pole, and give fully the record upon which this 
claim is based. Only upon such a complete account of 
day-by-day traveling and such observations, can any 
claim rest. 

Despite the hullabaloo of voluminous so-called 
proofs offered by a rival, I am certain that the un- 
prejudiced reader will herein find as complete a story, 
and as valuable figures as those ever offered by anyone 
for any such achievement in exploration as mine. 
Herein, for the first time, shall I answer in toto all 
charges made against me, and this because the entire 
truth concerning these same charges I have not sue- 



6 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ceeded in giving the world through other channels. Be- 
cause of the power of those who arrayed themselves 
against me, I foimd the columns of the press closed to 
much that I wished to say; articles which I wrote for 
publication underwent editorial excision, and absolutely 
necessary explanations, which in themselves attacked 
my assailants, were eliminated. 

Only by reading my own story, as fully set down 
herein, can anyone judge of the relative value of my 
claim and that of my rival claimant; only by so doing 
can anyone get at the truth of the plot made to discredit 
me; only by doing so can one learn the reason for all of 
my actions, for my failure to meet charges at the time 
they were made, for my disappearing at a time when 
such action was unfairly made to confirm the worst 
charges of my detractors. That I have been too char- 
itable with those who attempted to steal the justly 
deserved honors of my achievement, I am now con- 
vinced; when desirable, I shall now, having felt the 
smarting sting of the world's whip, and in order to 
justify myself, use the knife. I shall tell the truth 
even though it hurts. I have not been spared, and I 
shall spare no one in telling the unadorned and un- 
pleasant story of a man who has been bitterly 
wronged, whose character has been assailed by bought 
and perjured affidavits, whose life before he returned 
from the famine-land of ice and cold — the world of his 
conquest — was endangered, designedly or not, by a 
dishonest appropriation of food supplies by one who 
afterwards endeavored to steal from him his honor, 
which is more dear than life. 

To be doubted, and to have one's honesty assailed, 



HOW OTHER EXPLORERS WERE DOUBTED 7 

has been the experience of many explorers throughout 
history. The discoverer of our own continent, Chris- 
topher Columbus, was thrown into prison, and another, 
Amerigo Vespucci, was given the honor, his name to 
this day marking the land which was reached only 
through the intrepidity and single-hearted, single-sus- 
tained confidence of a man whose vision his own people 
doubted. Even in my own time have explorers been 
assailed, among them Stanley, whose name for a time 
was shrouded with suspicion, and others who since have 
joined the ranks of my assailants. Unfortunately, in 
such cases the matter of proof and the reliability of any 
claim, basicly, must rest entirely upon the intangible 
evidence of a man's own word; there can be no such 
thing as a palpable and indubitable proof. And in the 
case when a man's good faith is aspersed and his char- 
acter assailed, the world's decision must rest either upon 
his own word or that of his detractors. 

Returning from the North, exhausted both in body 
and brain by a savage and excruciating struggle against 
famine and cold, yet thrilling with the glorious con- 
viction of a personal attainment, I was tossed to the 
zenith of worldly honor on a wave of enthusiasm, a 
world-madness, which startled and bewildered me. In 
that swift, sudden, lightning-flash ascension to glory, 
which I had not expected, and in which I was as a bit of 
helpless drift in the thundering tossing of an ocean 
storm, I was decorated with unasked-for honors, the 
laudations of the press of the world rang in my ears, the 
most notable of living men hailed me as one great among 
them. I found myself the unwilling and uncomfort- 
able guest of princes, and I was led forward to receive 
the gracious hand of a King. 



B MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Returning to my own country, still marveling that 
such honors should be given because I had accomplished 
what seemed, and still seems, a merely personal achieve- 
ment, and of little importance to anyone save to him 
who throbs with the gratification of a personal success, 
I was greeted with mad cheers and hooting whistles, 
with bursting guns and blaring bands. I was led 
through streets filled with applauding men and singing 
children and arched with triumphal flowers. In a dizzy 
whirl about the country — which now seems like a deliri- 
ous dream — I experienced what I am told was an ova- 
tion unparalleled of its kind. 

Coincident with my return to civilization, and while 
the world was ringing with congratulations, there came 
stinging through the cold air from the North, by wire- 
less electric flashes, word from Mr. Peary that he had 
reached the North Pole and that, in asserting such a 
claim myself, I was a liar. I did not then doubt the good 
faith of Peary's claim; having reached the boreal center 
myself, under extremely favorable weather conditions, I 
felt that he, with everything in his favor, could do as 
much a year later, as he claimed. I replied with all can- 
dor what I felt, that there was glory enough for two. 
But I did, of course, feel the sting of my rival's unwar- 
ranted and virulent attacks. In the stress of any great 
crisis, the average human mind is apt to be carried away 
by unwise impulses. 

Following Mr. Peary's return, I found myself the 
object of a campaign to discredit me in which, I believe, 
as an explorer, I stand the most shamefully abused man 
in the history of exploration. Deliberately planned, 
inspired at first, and at first directed, by Mr. Peary from 



WEAVING THE FALSE WEB OF SHAME 9 

the wireless stations of Labrador, this campaign 
was consistently and persistently worked out by a 
powerful and affluent organization, with unlimited 
money at its command, which has had as its allies dis- 
honest pseudo-scientists, financially and otherwise in- 
terested in the success of Mr. Peary's expedition. With 
a chain of powerful newspapers, a financial backer of 
Peary led a campaign to destroy confidence in me. I 
found myself in due time, before I realized the import- 
ance of underhand attacks, in a quandary which baffled 
and bewildered me. Without any organization behind 
me, without any wires to pull, without at the time, any 
appreciable amount of money for defence, I felt what 
anyone who is not superhuman would have felt, a sick- 
ening sense of helplessness, a disgust at the human 
duplicity which permitted such things, a sense of the 
f utility of the very thing I had done and its little worth 
compared to the web of shame my enemies were en- 
deavoring to weave about me. 

One of the remarkable things about modern jour- 
nalism is that, by persistent repetition, it can create as a 
fact in the public mind a thing which is purely imma- 
terial or untrue. Taking the cue from Peary, there was 
at the beginning a widespread and unprecedented call 
for "proofs," which in some vague way were to consist 
of unreduced reckonings. Mr. Peary had his own — he 
had buried part of mine. I did not at the time instantly 
produce these vague and obscure proofs, knowing, as all 
scientists know, that figures must inevitably be inade- 
quate and that any convincing proof that can exist is to 
be found only in the narrative account of such a quest. I 
did not appreciate that in the public mind, because of 



10 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the newspapers' criticisms, there was growing a demand 
for this vague something. For this reason, I did not 
consider an explanation of the absurdity of this exag- 
gerated position necessary. 

Nor did I appreciate the relative effect of the 
National Geographic Society's "acceptance" of Mr. 
Peary's so-called "proofs" while mine were not forth- 
coming. I did not know at the time, what has since been 
brought out in the testimony given before the Naval 
Committee in Washington, that the National Geo- 
graphic Society's verdict was based upon an indif- 
ferent examination of worthless observations and a few 
seconds' casual observation of Mr. Peary's instruments 
by several members of the Society in the Pennsylvania 
Railroad Station at Washington. With many lecture 
engagements, I considered that I was right in doing 
what every other explorer, including Mr. Peary him- 
self, had done before me; that is, to fulfill my lec- 
ture and immediate literary opportunities while there 
was a great public interest aroused, and to offer a nar- 
rative of greater length, with field observations and 
extensive scientific data, later. 

Following the exaggerated call for proofs, there 
began a series of persistently planned attacks. So 
petty and insignificant did many of them seem to me 
that I gave them little thought. My speed limits were 
questioned, this charge being dropped when it was found 
that Mr. Peary's had exceeded mine. The use by the 
newspaper running my narrative story of photographs 
of Arctic scenes — which never change in character — 
that had been taken by me on previous trips, was held 
up as visible evidence that I was a faker ! Errors which 



DISTORTED ESKIMO STATEMENTS 11 

crept into my newspaper account because of hasty prep- 
aration, and which Were not corrected because there 
was no time to read proofs, were eagerly seized upon, 
and long, abstruse and impressive mathematical dis- 
sertations were made on these to prove how unscrupu- 
lous and unreliable I was. 

The photograph of the flag at the Pole was put 
forth by one of Mr. Peary's friends to prove on prima 
facie evidence that I had faked. Inasmuch as the origi- 
nal negative was vague because of the non-actinic light 
in the North, the newspaper photographers retouched 
the print and painted on it a shadow as being cast from 
the flag and snow igloos. This shadow was seized upon 
avidly, and after long and learned calculations, was 
cited as showing that the picture was taken some five 
hundred miles from the Pole. 

A formidable appearing statement, signed by vari- 
ous members of his expedition, and copyrighted by the 
clique of honor-blind boosters, was issued by Mr. 
Peary. In this he gave statements of my two Eskimo 
companions to the effect that I had not gotten out of 
sight of land for more than one or two "sleeps" on my 
trip. I knew that I had encouraged the delusion of my 
Eskimos that the mirages and low-lying clouds which 
appeared almost daily were signs of land. In their ig- 
norance and their eagerness to be near land, they be- 
lieved this, and by this innocent deception I prevented 
the panic which seizes every Arctic savage when he finds 
himself upon the circumpolar sea out of sight of land. I 
have since learned that Mr. Peary's Eskimos became 
panic-stricken near the Big Lead on his last journey 
and that it was only by the life-threatening announce- 



18 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ment to them of his determination to leave them alone 
on the ice (to get back to land as best they might or 
starve to death) that he compelled them to accompany 
him. 

In any case, I did not consider as important any 
testimony of the Eskimos which Mr. Peary might cite, 
knowing as well as he did that one can get any sort of 
desired reply from these natives by certain adroit ques- 
tioning, and knowing also that the alleged route on his 
map which he said they drew was valueless, inasmuch as 
an Eskimo out of sight of land and in an unfamiliar 
region has no sense of location. I felt the whole state- 
ment to be what it was, a trumped-up document in 
which my helpers, perhaps unwittingly, had been 
adroitly led to affirm what Mr. Peary by Jesuitical and 
equivocal questioning planned to have them say, and 
that it was therefore unworthy of a reply. 

I had left my instruments and part of the unre- 
duced reckonings with Mr. Harry Whitney, a fact 
which Mr. Whitney himself confirmed in published 
press interviews when he first arrived— in the heat of the 
controversy and after I left Copenhagen — in Sidney. 
When interviews came from Mr. Peary insinuating 
that I had left no instruments in the North, this 
becoming a definite charge which was taken up 
with great hue and cry, I bitterly felt this to be 
a deliberate untruth on Mr. Peary's part. I have since 
learned that one of Mr. Peary's officers cross-questioned 
my Eskimos, and that by showing them Mr. Peary's 
own instruments he discovered just what instruments I 
had had with me on my trip, and that by describing the 
method of using these instruments to E-tuk-i-shook and 



THE PRO-PEARY BRIBERY 13 

Ah-we-lah, Bartlett learned from them that I did take 
observations. This information he conveyed to Mr. 
Peary before his expedition left Etah for America, and 
this knowledge Mr. Peary and his party, deliberately 
and with malicious intent, concealed on their return. 
At the time I had no means of refuting this insinuation ; 
it was simply my word or Mr. Peary's. 

I had no extraordinary proofs to offer, but, such 
as they were, I now know, by comparison with the 
published reports of Mr. Peary himself, they were as 
good as any offered by anyone. I was perhaps un- 
fortunate in not having, as Mr. Peary had, a confederate 
body of financially interested friends to back me up, as 
was the National Geographic Society. 

Not satisfied with unjustly attacking my claim, 
Mr. Peary's associates proceeded to assail my past ca- 
reer, and I was next confronted by an affidavit made 
by my guide, Barrill, to the effect that I had not scaled 
Mt. McKinley, an affidavit which, as I later secured 
evidence, had been bought. A widely heralded "in- 
vestigation" was announced by a body of "explorers" of 
which Peary was president. One of Colonel Mann's 
muck-rakers was secretary, while its moving spirit was 
Mr. Peary's press agent, Herbert L. Bridgman. In a 
desperate effort to help Peary, a cowardly side issue was 
forced through Professor Herschell Parker, who had 
been with me on the Mt. McKinley trip but who had 
turned back after becoming panic-stricken in the cross- 
ing of mountain torrents. Mr. Parker expressed doubt 
of my achievements because he differed with me as to the 
value of the particular instrument to ascertain altitude 
which I, with many other mountain climbers, used. I 



14 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

had offered all possible proofs as to having climbed the 
mountain, as full and adequate proofs as any moun- 
taineer could, or ever has offered. 

I resented the meddlesomeness of this pro-Peary 
group of kitchen explorers, not one of whom knew the 
first principles of mountaineering. From such an in- 
vestigation, started to help Peary in his black-hand ef- 
fort to force the dagger, with the money power easing 
men's conscience — as was evident at the time every- 
where — no fair result could be expected. And as to the 
widely printed Barrill affidavit — this carried on its face 
the story of pro-Peary bribery and conspiracy. I have 
since learned that for it $1,500 and other considerations 
were paid. Here was a self-confessed bar. I did not 
think that a sane public therefore could take this under- 
handed pro-Peary charge as to the climb of Mt. Mc- 
Kinley seriously. Indeed, I paid little attention to it, 
but by using the cutting power of the press my enemies 
succeeded in inflicting a wound in my side. 

I was thus plunged into the bewildering chaos 
which friends and enemies created, and swept for three 
months through a cyclone of events which I believe no 
human being could have stood. Before returning, I felt 
weakened mentally and physically by the rigors of the 
North, where for a year I barely withstood starvation. 
I was now whirled about the country, daily delivering 
lectures, greeting thousands of people, buffeted by 
mobs of well-meaning beings, and compelled to attend 
dinners and receptions numbering two hundred in sixty 
days. The air hissed about me with the odious charges 
which came from every direction. I was alone, help- 
less, without a single wise counsellor, under the charge 



THE DUNKLE-LOOSE LIES 15 

of the enemies' press, mud-charged guns fired from 
every point of the compass. Unlimited funds were 
being consumed in the infamous mill of bribery. 

I had not the money nor the nature to fight in this 
kind of battle — so I withdrew. At once, howls of ex- 
ecration gleefully rose from the ranks of my enemies; 
my departure was heralded gloriously as a confession 
of imposture. Advantage was taken of my absence 
and new, perjured, forged charges were made to blacken 
my name. Far from my home and unable to defend 
myself, Dunkle and Loose swore falsely to having 
manufactured figures and observations under my direc- 
tion. When I learned of this, much as it hurt me, I 
knew that the report which I had sent to Copenhagen 
would, if it did anything, disprove by the very figures 
in it the malicious lying document published in the New 
York Times. This, combined with the verdict rendered 
by the University of Copenhagen — a neutral verdict 
which carried no implication of the non-attainment of 
the Pole, but which was interpreted as a rejection — 
helped to stamp me in the minds of many people as the 
most monumental impostor the world has ever seen. 

I fully realized that under the circumstances the 
only verdict of an unprejudiced body on any such proofs 
to such a claim must be favorable or neutral. The 
members of the University of Copenhagen who exam- 
ined my papers were neither personal friends nor mem- 
bers of a body financially interested in my quest. Their 
verdict was honest. Mr. Peary's Washington verdict 
was dishonest, for two members of the jury admitted 
a year later in Congress, under pressure, that in the 
Peary data there was no absolute proof. 



16 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

By the time I determined to return to my native 
country and state my case, I had been placed, I am 
certain, in a position of undeserved discredit unparal- 
leled in history. No epithet was too vile to couple with 
my name. I was declared a brazen cheat who had con- 
cocted the most colossal lie of ages whereby to hoax an 
entire world for gain. I was made the subject of cheap 
jokes. My name in antagonistic newspapers had be- 
come a synonym for cheap faking. I was compelled 
to see myself held up gleefully as an impostor, a liar, a 
fraud, an unscrupulous scoundrel, one who had tried to 
steal honors from another, and who, to escape exposure, 
had fled to obscurity. 

All the scientific work which scientists themselves 
had accepted as valuable, all the necessary hardships 
and the inevitable agonies of my last Arctic journey 
were forgotten; I was coupled with the most notorious 
characters in history in a press which panders to the 
lowest of human emotions and delights in men's shame. 
When I realized how egregious, how frightful, how un- 
deserved was all this, my soul writhed; when I saw 
clearly, with the perspective which only time can give, 
how I, stepping aside, in errors of confused judgment 
which were purely human, had seemingly contributed to 
my unhappy plight, I felt the sting of ignominy greater 
than that which has broken stronger men's hearts. 

For the glory which the world gives to such an 
accomplishment as the discovery of the North Pole, I 
care very little, but when the very result of such a vic- 
tory is used as a whip to inflict cuts that mark my future 
destiny, I have a right to call a halt. I have claimed 
no national honors, want no medals or money. My feet 



VICTORY WAS HONESTLY WON 17 

stepped over the Polar wastes with a will fired only by 
a personal ambition to succeed in a task where all the 
higher human powers were put to the test of fitness. 
That victory was honestly won. All that the achieve- 
ment ever meant to me — the lure of it before I achieved 
it, the only satisfaction that remains since — is that it is 
a personal accomplishment of brain and muscle over 
hitherto unconquered forces, a thought in which I have 
pride. From the tremendous ovations that greeted me 
when I returned to civilization I got not a single thrill. 
I did thrill with the handclasp of confident, kindly peo- 
ple. I still thrill with the handclasp of my countrymen. 

Insofar as the earthly glory and applause are con- 
cerned, I should be only too glad to share them, with all 
material accruements, to any honest, manly rivals — 
those of the past and those of the future. But against 
the unjust charges which have been made against me, 
against the aspersions on my personal integrity, against 
the ignominy with which my name has been besmirched, 
I will fight until the public gets a normal perspective. 

I have never hoaxed a mythical achievement. 
Everything I have ever claimed was won by hard labor, 
by tremendous physical fortitude and endurance, and 
by such personal sacrifice as only I, and my immediate 
family, will ever know. 

For this reason, I returned to my country in the 
latter part of 1910, as I always intended to do, after a 
year's rest. By this time I knew that my enemies 
would have said all that was possible about me ; the ex- 
citement of the controversy would have quieted, and I 
should have the advantage of the last word. 

In the heat of the controversy, only just re- 



18 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

turned in a weakened condition from the North, and 
mentally bewildered by the unexpected maelstrom of 
events, I should not have been able, with justice to my- 
self, to have met all the charges, criminal and silly, 
which were made against me. Even what I did say 
was misquoted and distorted by a sensational press 
which found it profitable to add fuel to the controversy. 
Sometimes I feel that no man ever born has been so 
variedly, so persistently lied about, misrepresented, 
made the butt of such countless untruths as myself. 
When I consider the lies, great and small, which for 
more than a year, throughout the entire world, have 
been printed about me, I am filled almost with hope- 
lessness. And sometimes, when I think how I have 
been unjustly dubbed as the most colossal bar of his- 
tory, I am filled with a sort of sardonic humor. 

Returning to my country, determined to state my 
case freely and frankly, and making the honest admis- 
sion that any claim to the definite, actual attainment of 
the North Pole — the mathematical pin-point on which 
the earth spins — must rest upon assumptions, because 
of the impossibility of accuracy in observations, I found 
that this admission, which every explorer would have 
to make, which Mr. Peary was unwillingly forced to 
make at the Congressional investigation, was construed 
throughout the country and widely heralded as a "con- 
fession," that garbled extracts were lifted from the 
context of my magazine story and their meaning dis- 
torted. In hundreds of newspapers I was represented 
as confessing to a fraudulent claim or as making a plea 
of insanity. A full answer to the charges made against 
me, necessary in order to justly cover my case, because 



INJUSTICE OF THE PRESS 19 

of the controversial nature of certain statements which 
involved Mr. Peary, was prohibited by the contract I 
found it necessary to sign in order to get any statement 
of a comparatively ungarbled sort before a public which 
had read Mr. Peary's own account of his journey. 

I found the columns of the press of my coun- 
try closed to the publication of statements which in- 
volved my enemies, because of the unfounded prejudice 
created against me during my absence and because of 
the power of Mr. Peary's friends. It is almost impos- 
sible in any condition for anyone to secure a refutation 
for an unfounded attack in the American papers. With 
the entire press of the country printing misstatements, 
I was almost helpless. The justice, kindliness and gen- 
erous spirit of fair dealing of the American people, 
however, was extended to me — I found the American 
people glad — nay, eager — to listen. 

It is this spirit which has encouraged me, after the 
shameful campaign of opprobrium which well-nigh 
broke my spirit, to tell the entire and unalterable truth 
about myself and an achievement in which I still be- 
lieve — in fairness to myself, in order to clear myself, 
in order that the truth about the discovery of the North 
Pole may be known by my people and in order that 
history may record its verdict upon a full, free and 
frank exposition. I do not address myself to any 
clique of geographers or scientists, but to the great 
public of the world, and herein, for the first time, shall 
I give fully whatever proofs there may be of my con- 
quest. Upon these records must conviction rest. 

Did I actually reach the North Pole? When I 
returned to civilization and reported that the boreal 



20 MY ATTAINMENT OE THE POLE 

center had been attained, I believed that I had reached 
the spot toward which valiant men had strained for 
more than three hundred years. I still believe that I 
reached the boreal center as far as it is possible for any- 
human being to ascertain it. If I was mistaken in 
approximately placing my feet upon the pin-point 
about which this controversy has raged, I maintain that 
it is the inevitable mistake any man must make. To 
touch that spot would be an accident. That any other 
man has more accurately determined the Pole I do 
deny. That Mr. Peary reached the North Pole — or 
its environs — with as fair accuracy as was possible, I 
have never denied. That Mr. Peary was better fitted 
to reach the Pole, and better equipped to locate this 
mythical spot, I do not admit. In fact, I believe that, 
inasmuch as the purely scientific ascertainment is a 
comparatively simple matter, I stood a better chance of 
more scientifically and more accurately marking the 
actual spot than Mr. Peary. I reached my goal when 
the sun was twelve degrees above the horizon, and was 
therefore better able to mark a mathematical position 
than Mr. Peary could have with the sun at less than 
seven degrees. Mr. Peary's case rests upon three 
observations of sun altitude so low that, as proof of a 
position, they are worthless. 

Besides taking observations, which, as I shall ex- 
plain in due course in my narrative, cannot be adequate, 
I also ascertained what I believed to be my approximate 
position at the boreal center and en route by measuring 
the shadows each hour of the long day. Inasmuch as 
one's shadow decreases or increases in length as the sun 
rises toward the meridian or descends, at the boreal 



THE REAL PROOF OF THE QUEST 21 

center, where the sun circles the entire horizon at prac- 
tically the same height during the entire day, one's 
shadow in this region of mystery is of the same length. 
In this observation, which is so simple that a child may 
understand it, is a sure and certain means of approxi- 
mately ascertaining the North Pole. I took advantage 
of this method, which does not seem to have occurred to 
any other Arctic traveler, and this helped to bring 
conviction. 

I shall in this volume present with detail the story 
of my Arctic journey — I shall tell how it was possible 
for me to reach my goal, why I believe I attained that 
goal ; and upon this record must the decision of my peo- 
ple rest. I shall herein tell the story of an unfair and 
unworthy plot to ruin the reputation of an innocent 
man because of an achievement the full and prior credit 
of which was desired by a brutally selfish, brutally un- 
scrupulous rival. I shall tell of a tragedy compared 
with which the North Pole and any glory accruing to 
its discoverer pales into insignificance — the tragedy of 
a spirit that was almost broken, of a man whose honor 
and pride was cut with knives in unclean hands. 

When you have read all this, then, and only then, 
in fairness to yourself and in fairness to me, do I ask 
you to form your opinion. Only by reading this can 
you learn the full truth about me, about my claim and 
about the plot to discredit me, of the charges made 
against me, and the reason for all of my own actions. 
So persistent, so world-wide has been the press cam- 
paign made by my enemies, and so egregious have the 
charges seemed against me, so multitudinous have the 
lies, fake stories, fake interviews, fake confessions been, 



22 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

so blatant have rung the hideous cries of liar, impostor, 
cheat and fraud, that the task to right myself, explain 
myself, and bring the truth into clean relief has seemed 
colossal. 

To return to my country and face the people in 
view of all that was being said, with my enemies exult- 
ant, with antagonistic press men awaiting me as some 
beast to be devoured, required a determined gritting of 
the teeth and a reserve temperament to prevent an 
undignified battle. 

For against such things nature dictates the tactics 
of the tiger. I faced my people, I found them fair and 
kindly. I accused my enemies of their lies, and they 
have remained silent. Titanic as is this effort of forcing 
fair play where biased abuse has reigned so long, I am 
confident of success. I am confident of the honesty 
and justice of my people; of their ability spiritually to 
sense, psychically to appreciate the earmarks of a clean, 
true effort — a worthy ambition and a real attainment. 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 

THE YACHT BRADLEY LEAVES GLOUCESTER — INVADES THE 
MAGIC OF THE WATERS OF THE ARCTIC SEAS RECOL- 
LECTION OF BOYHOOD AMBITIONS BEYOND THE 

ARCTIC CIRCLE THE WEAVING OF THE POLAR SPELL 

II 

Over the Arctic Circle 

On July 3, 1907, between seven and eight o'clock 
in the evening, the yacht, which had been renamed the 
John R. Bradley, quietly withdrew from the pier at 
Gloucester, Massachusetts, and, turning her prow 
ocean ward, slowly, quietly started on her historic jour- 
ney to the Arctic seas. 

In the tawny glow of sunset, which was fading in 
the western sky, she looked, with her new sails unfurled, 
her entire body newly painted a spotless white, like 
some huge silver bird alighting upon the sunshot waters 
of the bay. On board, all was quiet. I stood alone, 
gazing back upon the picturesque fishing village with 
a tender throb at my heart, for it was the last village of 
my country which I might see for years, or perhaps ever. 

Along the water's edge straggled tiny ramshackle 
boat houses, dun-colored sheds where fish are dried, and 
the humble miniature homes of the fisherf oik, in the 



24 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

windows of which lights soon after appeared. On the 
bay about us, fishing boats were lazily bobbing up and 
down; in some, old bearded fishermen with broad hats, 
smoking clay and corncob pipes, were drawing in their 
seines. Other boats went by, laden with wriggling, 
silver-scaled fish; along the shore I could still see tons 
of fish being unloaded from scores of boats. Through the 
rosy twilight, voices came over the water, murmurous 
sounds from the shore, cries from the sea mixed with 
the quaint oaths of fisherf oik at work. Ashore, the boys 
of the village were testing their firecrackers for the mor- 
row; sputtering explosions cracked through the air. 
Occasionally a faint fire rocket scaled the sky. But no 
whistles tooted after our departure. No visiting crowds 
of curiosity-seekers ashore were frenziedly waving us 
good-bye. 

An Arctic expedition had been born without the 
usual clamor. Prepared in one month, and financed by 
a sportsman whose only mission was to hunt game 
animals in the North, no press campaign heralded our 
project, no government aid had been asked, nor had 
large contributions been sought from private individ- 
uals to purchase luxuries for a Pullman jaunt of a large 
party Poleward. For, although I secretly cherished the 
ambition, there was no definite plan to essay the North 
Pole. 

At the Holland House in New York, a compact 
was made between John R. Bradley and myself to 
launch an Arctic expedition. Because of my experi- 
ence, Mr. Bradley delegated to me the outfitting of the 
expedition, and had turned over to me money enough 
to pay the costs of the hunting trip. A Gloucester 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 25 

fishing schooner had been purchased by me and was 
refitted, covered and strengthened for ice navigation. 
To save fuel space and to gain the advantage of a 
steamer, I had a Lozier gasoline motor installed. There 
had been put on board everything of possible use and 
comfort in the boreal wild. As it is always possible 
that a summer cruising ship is likely to be lost or de- 
layed a year, common prudence dictated a preparation 
for the worst emergencies. 

So far as the needs of my own personal expedition 
were concerned, I had with me on the yacht plenty of 
hard hickory wood for the making of sledges, instru- 
ments, clothing and other apparatus gathered with 
much economy during my former years of exploration, 
and about one thousand pounds of pemmican. These 
supplies, necessary to offset the danger of shipwreck 
and detention by ice, were also all that would be re- 
quired for a Polar trip. When, later, I finally decided 
on a Polar campaign, extra ship supplies, contributed 
from the boat, were stored at Annoatok. There, also, 
my supply of pemmican was amplified by the stores of 
walrus meat and fat prepared during the long winter 
by myself, Rudolph Francke and the Eskimos. 

As the yacht slowly soared toward the ocean, and 
night descended over the fishing village with its home 
lights glimmering cheerfully as the stars one by one 
flecked the firmament with dots of fire, I felt that at 
last I had embarked upon my destiny. Whether I 
should be able to follow my heart's desire I did not 
know; I did not dare hazard a guess. But I was leav- 
ing my country, now on the eve of celebrating its free- 
dom, behind me; I had elected to live in a world of ice 



26 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

and cold, of hunger and death, which lay before me — 
thousands of miles to the North. 

Day by day passed monotonously; we only occa- 
sionally saw writhing curves of land to the west of us; 
about us was the illimitable sea. That I had started on 
a journey which might result in my starting for the 
Pole, that my final chance had come, vaguely thrilled 
me. Yet the full purport of my hope seemed beyond 
me. On the journey to Sydney my mind was full. I 
thought of the early days of my childhood, of the strange 
ambition which grew upon me, of my struggles, and the 
chance which favored me in the present expedition. 

In the early days of my childhood, of which I now 
had only indistinct glimmerings, I remembered a rest- 
less surge in my little bosom, a yearning for something 
that was vague and undefined. This was, I suppose, 
that nebulous desire which sometimes manifests itself in 
early youth and later is asserted in strivings toward 
some splendid, sometimes spectacular aim. My boy- 
hood was not happy. As a tiny child I was discon- 
tented, and from the earliest days of consciousness I 
felt the burden of two things which accompanied me 
through later life — an innate and abnormal desire for 
exploration, then the manifestation of my yearning, and 
the constant struggle to make ends meet, that sting of 
poverty, which, while it tantalizes one with its horrid 
grind, sometimes drives men by reason of the strength 
developed in overcoming its concomitant obstacles to 
some extraordinary accomplishment. 

As a very small boy, I remember being fascinated 
by the lure of a forbidden swimming pool. One day, 
when but little over five, I, impelled to test the depth, 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 27 

plunged to the center, where the water was above my 
head, and nearly lost my life. I shall never forget that 
struggle, and though I nearly gave out, in that short 
time I learned to swim. It seems to me now I have 
been swimming and struggling ever since. 

Abject poverty and hard work marked my school 
days. When quite a boy, after the death of my father, 
I came to New York. I sold fruit at one of the mar- 
kets. I saved my money. I enjoyed no luxuries. 
These days vividly occur in my mind. Later I engaged 
in a dairy business in Brooklyn, and on the meager 
profits undertook to study medicine. 

At that time the ambition which beset me was undi- 
rected; it was only later that I found, almost by acci- 
dent, what became its focusing point. I graduated 
from the University of New York in 1890. I felt (as 
what young man does not?) that I possessed unusual 
qualifications and exceptional ability. An office was 
fitted up, and my anxiety over the disappearing pen- 
nies was eased by the conviction that I had but to hang 
out my shingle and the place would be thronged with 
patients. Six months passed. There had been about 
three patients. 

I recall sitting alone one gloomy winter day. 
Opening a paper, I read that Peary was preparing his 
1891 expedition to the Arctic. I cannot explain my 
sensations. It was as if a door to a prison cell had 
opened. I felt the first indomitable, commanding call 
of the Northland. To invade the Unknown, to assail 
the fastness of the white, frozen North — all that was 
latent in me, the impetus of that ambition born in child- 
hood, perhaps before birth, and which had been stifled 
and starved, surged up tumultuously within me. 



28 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

I volunteered, and accompanied Peary, on this, the 
expedition of 1891-92, as surgeon. Whatever merit 
my work possessed has been cited by others. 

Unless one has been in the Arctic, I suppose it is 
impossible to understand its fascination — a fascination 
which makes men risk their lives and endure inconceiv- 
able hardships for, as I view it now, no profitable per- 
sonal purpose of any kind. The spell was upon me 
then. It was upon me as I recalled those early days on 
the Bradley going Northward. With a feeling of sad- 
ness I realize that the glamor is all gone now. 

On the Peary and all my subsequent expeditions I 
served without pay. 

On my return from that trip I managed to make 
ends meet by meager earnings from medicine. I was 
nearly always desperately hard pressed for money. I 
tried to organize several cooperative expeditions to the 
Arctic. These failed. I then tried to arouse interest in 
Antarctic exploration, but without success. Then came 
the opportunity to join the Belgian Antarctic Expedi- 
tion, again without pay. 

On my return I dreamed of a plan to attain the 
South Pole, and for a long time worked on a contriv- 
ance for that end — an automobile arranged to travel 
over ice. Financial failure again confronted me. Dis- 
appointment only added to my ambition ; it scourged me 
to a determination, a conviction that — I want you to 
remember this, to bear in mind the mental conviction 
which buoyed me — I must and should succeed. It is 
always this innate conviction which encourages men to 
exceptional feats, to tremendous failures or splendid, 
single-handed success, 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 29 

A summer in the Arctic followed my Antarctic 
trip, and I returned to invade the Alaskan wilds. I suc- 
ceeded in scaling Mt. McKinley. After my Alaskan 
expeditions, the routine of my Brooklyn office work 
seemed like the confinement of prison. I fretted and 
chafed at the thought. Let me have a chance, and I 
would succeed. This thought always filled my mind. 
I convinced myself that in some way the attainment of 
one of the Poles — the effort on which I had spent six- 
teen years — would become possible. 

I had no money. My work in exploration had 
netted me nothing, and all my professional income was 
soon spent. Unless you have felt the goading, devilish 
grind of poverty hindering you, dogging you, you can- 
not know the mental fury into which I was lashed. 

I waited, and fortune favored me in that I met 
Mr. John R. Bradley. We planned the Arctic expedi- 
tion on which I was now embarked. Mr. Bradley's in- 
terest in the trip was that of a great sportsman, eager 
to seek big game in the Arctic. My immediate purpose 
was to return again to the frozen North. The least 
the journey would give me was an opportunity to com- 
plete the study of the Eskimos which I had started 
in 1891. 

Mr. Bradley and I had talked, of course, of the 
Pole; but it was not an important incentive to the 
journey. Back in my brain, barely above the subcon- 
scious realm, was the feeling that this, however, might 
offer opportunity in the preparation for a final future 
determination. I, therefore, without any conscious 
purpose, and with my last penny, paid out of my purse 



30 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

for extra supplies for a personal expedition should I 
leave the ship.* 

Aboard the Bradley, going northward, my plans 
were not at all definite. Even had I known before 
leaving New York that I should try for the Pole, I 
should not have sought any geographical license from 
some vague and unknown authority. Though much has 
since been made by critics of our quiet departure, I 
always felt the quest of the Pole a personal ambi- 
tiont, a crazy hunger I had to satisfy. 

Fair weather followed us to Sydney, Cape Breton. 



* Accused of being the most colossal liar of history, I sometimes 
feel that more lies have been told about me than about anyone ever 
born. I have been guilty of many mistakes. Most men really true to 
themselves admit that. My claim to the North Pole may always be ques- 
tioned. Yet, when I regard the lies great and small attached to me, I am 
filled almost with indifference. 

As a popular illustration of the sort of yarns that were told, let me 
refer to the foolish fake of the gum drops. Someone started the story 
that I expected to reach the Pole by bribing the Eskimos with gum 
drops — perhaps the idea was that I was to lure them on from point to 
point with regularly issued rations of these confections. 

Wherever I went on my lecture tour after my return to the United 
States, much to my irritation I saw "Cook" gum drops conspicuously 
displayed in confectionery store windows. Hundreds of pounds of gum 
drops were sent to my hotel with the compliments of the manufacturers. 
On all sides I heard the gum-drop story, and in almost every paper read 
the reiterated tale of leading the Eskimos to the Pole by dangling a gum 
drop on a string before them. I never denied this, as I never denied 
any of the fakes printed about me. The fact is, that I never heard 
the gum-drop yarn until I came to New York. We took no gum drops 
with us on our Polar trip, and, to my knowledge, no Eskimo ate a gum 
drop while with me. 



fAmong the many things which the public has been misled into 
believing is that Mr. Bradley and I together connived the trip for the 
purpose of essaying this quest of the Pole. The fact is, not until I 
reached Annoatok, and saw that conditions were favorable for a long 
sledge journey, did I finally determine to make a Poleward trip; not 
until then did I tell my decision definitely to Mr. Bradley. 

One of the big mistakes which has been pounded into the public mind 
is that the proposed Polar exploit was expensively financed. It did cost 
a great deal to finance the planned hunting trip. Mr. Bradley's expenses 
aggregated, perhaps, $50,000, but my journey Northward, which was 
but an extension of this yachting cruise, cost comparatively little. 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 31 

From this point we sailed over the Gulf of St. 
Lawrence, then entered the Straits of Belle Isle at a 
lively speed. On a cold, cheerless day in the middle of 
July we arrived at Battle Harbor, a little town at the 
southeastern point of Labrador, where Mr. Bradley 
joined us. He had preceded us north, by rail and coast- 
ing vessels, after watching a part of the work of out- 
fitting the schooner. 

On the morning of July 16 we left the rockbound 
coast of North America and steered straight for Green- 
land. In this region a dense and heavy fog almost 
always lies upon the sea. Then nothing is visible but 
slow-swaying gray masses, which veil all objects in a 
shroud of ghostly dreariness. Through the fog can be 
heard the sound of fisher-boat horns, often the very 
voices of the fishermen themselves, while their crafts 
are absolutely hidden from view. On this trip, how- 
ever, from time to time, great fragments of fog slowly 
lifted, and we saw, emerging out of the gray mistiness, 
islands, bleak and black and weathertorn, and patches 
of ocean dotted with scores of Newfoundland boats, 
which invade this region to fish for cod. We entered 
the Arctic current, and breasting its stream, a fancy 
came that perhaps this current, flowing down from out 
of the mysterious unknown, came from the very Pole 
itself. 

Continuing, we entered Davis Straits, where we 
encountered headwinds that piled up the water in great 
waves. It was a good test of the sailing qualities of the 
Bradley, and well did the small craft respond. 

Long before the actual coast line of Greenland 
could be seen we had a first glimpse of the beauties that 



M MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

these northern regions can show. Like great sapphires, 
blue ice floated in a golden sea; towering masses of 
crystal rose gloriously, dazzling the eye and gladden- 
ing the heart with their superb beauty. The schooner 
sailed into this wonderful yellow sea, which soon be- 
came a broad and gleaming surface of molten silver. Al- 
though this striking beauty of the North, which it often 
is so chary of displaying, possesses a splendor of color 
equal to the gloriousness of tropical seas, it always 
impresses one with a steely hardness of quality sug- 
gestive of the steely hardness of the heart of the North. 
And it somehow seemed, curiously enough, as if all this 
wonderful glitter was a shimmering reflection from the 
ice-covered mountains of the Greenland interior, al- 
though the mountains themselves were still invisible. 

We swung from side to side, dodging icebergs. 
We steered cautiously around low-floating masses, 
watching to see that the keel was not caught by some 
treacherous jutting spur just beneath the water-line. 
Through this fairyland of light and color we sailed 
slowly into a region rich in animal life, a curious and 
striking sight. Seals floundered in the sunbeams or 
slumbered on masses of ice, for even in this Northland 
there is a strange commingling and contrast of heat 
and cold. Gulls and petrels darted and fluttered about 
us in every direction, porpoises were making swift and 
curving leaps, even a few whales added to the magic 
and apparent unreality of it all. 

At length the coast showed dimly upon the horizon, 
veiled in a glow of purple and gold. The wind fresh- 
ened, the sails filled, and the speed of the schooner in- 
creased. We were gradually nearing Holsteinborg, 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 38 

and the course was set a point more in towards shore. 
The land was thrown into bold relief by the brilliancy 
of lights and shadows, and in the remarkably clear air 
it seemed as if it could be reached in an hour. But this 
was an atmospheric deception, of the kind familiar to 
those who know the pure air of the Rocky Mountains, 
for, although the land seemed near, it was at least forty 
miles away. The general color of the land was a frosty 
blue, and there were deep valleys to be seen, gashes cut 
by the slow movement of centuries of glaciers, with 
rocky headlands leaping forward, bleak and cold. It 
appeared to be a land of sublime desolation. 

The course was set still another point nearer the 
coast; the wind continued fair and strong; and, with 
every possible stitch of canvas spread, the schooner 
went rapidly onward. 

We saw rocky islands, drenched by clouds of spray 
and battered by drifting masses of ice. There the eider 
duck builds its nest and spends the brief summer of 
the Arctic. We saw dismal cliffs, terra cotta and buff 
in color, in the crevasses of which millions of birds made 
their homes, and from which they rose, frightened, in 
dense clouds, giving vent to a great volume of 
clamorous hoarseness. 

Through our glasses we could see a surprising 
sight in such a land — little patches of vegetation, seal 
brown or even emerald green. Yet, so slight were these 
patches of green that one could not but wonder what 
freak of imagination led the piratical Eric the Red, one 
thousand years ago, to give to this coast a name so sug- 
gestive of luxuriant forests and shrubs and general 
lushness of growth as "Greenland." Never, surely, was 



U MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

there a greater misnomer, unless one chooses to regard 
the old-time Eric as a practical joker. 

Between the tall headlands there were fiords cut- 
ting far into the interior ; arms of the sea, these, winding 
and twisting back for miles. Along these quiet land- 
locked waters the Eskimos love to hunt and fish, just as 
their forefathers have done for centuries. Shaggy look- 
ing fellows are these Eskimos, clothed in the skins of 
animals, relieved by dashes of color of Danish fabric, 
most of them still using spears, and thus, to outward 
appearance, in the arts of life almost like those that 
Eric saw. 

Although this rugged coast, with its low-lying 
islands, its icebergs and floating icefields, its bleak head- 
lands, its picturesque scenes of animal life, is a con- 
tinuous delight, it presents the worst possible dangers to 
navigation, not only from reefs and under-water ice, 
but because there are no lighthouses to mark permanent 
danger spots and because signs of impending storm are 
ever on the horizon. While navigating the coast, our 
officers spent sleepless nights of anxiety; but the short- 
ening of the nights and lengthening of the days, the 
daily night brightening resulting from the northerly 
movement, combined with an occasional flash of the 
aurora, gradually relieved the tension of the situation. 

By the time the island of Disco rose splendidly 
out of the northern blue, the Arctic Circle had been 
crossed, and a sort of celestial light-house brightened 
the path of the schooner. Remaining on deck until 
after midnight, we were rewarded by a sight of the 
sun magnified to many times its normal size, glowing 
above the rim of the frosty sea. A light wind blew 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 85 

gently from the coast, the sea ran in swells of gold, and 
the sky was streaked with topaz and crimson. 

Bathed in an indescribable glow, the towering 
sides of the greatest icebergs showed a medley of ever- 
changing, iridescent colors. The jutting pinnacles of 
others seemed like oriental minarets of alabaster fretted 
with old gold. Here and there, as though flung by an 
invisible hand from the zenith, straggled long cloud rib- 
bons of flossy crimson and silver. Gradually, im- 
perially, the sun rose higher and flushed sky and sea 
with deeper orange, more burning crimson, and the 
bergs into vivid ruby, chalcedony and chrysophase 
walls. This suddenly-changing, kaleidoscopic whirl of 
color was rendered more effective because, in its midst, 
the cliffs of Disco rose frowningly, a great patch of 
blackness in artistic contrast. A pearly vapor now 
began to creep over the horizon, and gradually spread 
over the waters, imparting a gentle and restful tone of 
blue. This gradually darkened into irregular shadows; 
the brilliant color glories faded away. Finally we re- 
tired to sleep with a feeling that sailing Poleward was 
merely a joyous pleasure journey over wonderful 
and magic waters. This, the first glorious vision of 
the midnight sun, glowed in my dreams — the augury of 
success in that for which my heart yearned. The glow 
never faded, and the weird lure unconsciously began to 
weave its spell. 

Next morning, when we went on deck, the schooner 
was racing eastward through heavy seas. The terraced 
cliffs of Disco, relieved by freshly fallen snow, were but 
a few miles off. The cry of gulls and guillemots 
echoed from rock to rock, Everything was divested of 



36 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the glory of the day before. The sun was slowly rising 
among mouse-colored clouds. The bergs were of an 
ugly blue, and the sea ran in gloomy lines of ebony. 
Although the sea was high, there was little wind, but we 
felt that a storm was gathering and sought to hasten 
to shelter in Godhaven — a name which speaks elo- 
quently of the dangers of this coast and the precious 
value of such a harbor. 

As we entered the narrow channel, which turns 
among low, polished rocks and opens into the harbor, 
two Eskimos in kayaks came out to act as pilots. Tak- 
ing them aboard, we soon found a snug anchorage, 
secure from wind and sea. The launch was lowered, 
and in it we left the schooner for a visit to the Governor. 

Coming up to a little pier, we were cordially 
greeted by Governor Fenker, who escorted us to his 
home, where his wife, a cultivated young Danish 
woman, offered us sincere hospitality. 

The little town itself was keenly alive. All the 
inhabitants, and all the dogs as well, were jumping 
about on the rocks, eagerly gazing at our schooner. 
The houses of the Governor and the Inspector were the 
most important of the town. They were built of wood 
imported from Denmark, and were covered with tarred 
paper. Though quite moderate in size, the houses 
seemed too large and out of place in their setting of 
ice-polished rocks. Beyond them were twenty Eskimo 
huts, nearly square in shape, constructed of wood and 
stone, the cracks of which were filled tightly with moss. 

We deferred our visit to the native huts, and in- 
vited Governor Fenker and his wife to dine aboard the 
schooner. The surprise of the evening for these two 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 37 

guests was the playing of our phonograph, the tunes of 
which brought tears of homesickness to the eyes of the 
Governor's gentle wife. 

Anywhere on the coast of Greenland, the coming 
of a ship is always one of the prime events of the season. 
So uneventful is life in these out-of-the-way places that 
such an arrival is the greatest possible social enlivener. 
The instant that the approach of our schooner had been 
noted, the Eskimo girls — queer little maids in queer 
little trousers — decided upon having a dance, and word 
was brought us that everyone was invited to take part. 
The sailors eagerly responded, and tumbled ashore as 
soon as they were permitted, leaving merely enough for 
a watch on board ship. Then, to the sound of savage 
music, the dance was continued until long after mid- 
night. A curious kind of midnight dance it was, with 
the sun brightly shining in a night unveiled of glitter 
and color glory. The sailors certainly found pleasure 
in whirling about, their arms encircling fat and clumsy 
waists. They did admit, however, when back on board 
the schooner, that the smell of the furs within which the 
maidens had spent the past winter was less agreeable 
than the savor of fish. The name of this scattered settle- 
ment of huts, Godhaven, comes, clearly enough, from 
its offering fortunate refuge from storms; that the 
place is also known as Lively is not in the least to be 
wondered at, if one has watched a midnight dance of the 
little population and their visitors. 

Before hauling in anchor in the harbor of God- 
haven, we made some necessary repairs to the yacht and 
filled our tanks with water. With a free wind speeding 
onward to the west of Disco, we passed the narrow 



38 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

strait known as the Vaigat early the following morning. 
As I stood on deck and viewed the passing of icebergs, 
glittering in the limpid, silvery light of morning like 
monstrous diamonds, there began to grow within me a 
feeling — that throbbed in pulsation with the onward 
movement of the boat — that every minute, every mile, 
meant a nearing to that mysterious center, on the at- 
taining of which I had set my heart, and which, even 
now, seemed unlikely, improbable. Yet the thought 
gave me a thrill. 

Before noon we reached the mouth of Umanak 
Fiord, into the delightful waters of which we were 
tempted to enter. The lure of the farther North de- 
cided us against this, and soon the striking Svarten 
Huk (Black Hook), a great rock cliff, loomed upon 
the horizon. Beyond it, gradually appeared a long chain 
of those islands among which lies Upernavik, where the 
last traces of civilized or semi-civilized life are found. 
The wind increased in force but the horizon remained 
remarkably clear. Over a bounding sea we sped rapidly 
along to the west, into the labyrinth of islands that are 
sprinkled along the southern shore of Melville Bay.* 
Beyond, we were to come into the true boreal wilder- 



* The killing of Astrup. — The head of Melville Bay was explored by 
Eivind Astrup while a member of the Peary expedition of 1894-1895. 
Astrup had been a member of the first serving expedition without pay, 
during 1891 and 1892 and proving himself a loyal supporter and helper of 
Mr. Peary, when he crossed the inland ice in 1892. As a result of eating 
pemmican twenty years old, in 1895, Astrup was disabled by poisoning, 
due to Peary's carelessness in furnishing poisoned food. Recovering from 
this illness, he selected a trustworthy Eskimo companion, went south, and 
under almost inconceivable difficulties, explored and mapped the ice walls, 
with their glaciers and mountains, and the off-lying islands of Melville Bay. 
This proved a creditable piece of work of genuine discovery. Returning, 
-he prepared his data and published it, thus bringing credit and honor on 
an expedition which was in other respects a failure. 

Astrup's publication of this work aroused Peary's envy. Publicly, 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 39 

ness of ice, where there were only a few savage 
aborigines, its sole inhabitants. 

On the following day, with reduced sail and the 
help of the auxiliary engine, we pushed far up into 
Melville Bay, where we ran into fields of pack-ice. 
Here we decided to hunt for game. With this pur- 
pose it was necessary to keep close to land. Here also 
came our first realistic experience with the great forces 
of the North. The pack-ice floated close around us, 
young ice cemented the broken masses together, and 
for several days we were thus closely imprisoned in 
frozen seas. 

These days of enforced delay were days of great 
pleasure, for the bears and seals on the ice afforded 
considerable sport. The constant danger of our position, 
however, required a close watch for the safety of the 
schooner. The Devil's Thumb, a high rock shaped like 
a dark thumb pointing at the sky, loomed darkly 
and beckoningly before us. A biting wind descended 
from the interior. 

The ice groaned; the eiderducks, guillemots and 
gulls uttered shrill and disturbing cries, seemingly sens- 
ing the coming of a storm. 

For three days we were held in the grip of the re- 
lentless pack ; then the glimmer of the land ice changed 

Peary denounced Astrup. Astrup, being young and sensitive, brooded 
over this injustice and ingratitude until he had almost lost his reason. 
The abuse was of the same nature as that heaped on others, the same as 
that finally hurled at me in the wireless "Gold Brick" slurs. For days and 
weeks, Astrup talked of nothing but the infamy of Peary's attack on him- 
self and the contemptible charge of desertion which Peary made against 
Astrup's companions. Then he suddenly left my home, returned to Norway, 
and we next heard of his suicide. Here is one life directly chargeable to 
Peary's narrow and intolerant brutality. Directly this was not murder 
with a knife — but it was as heinous — for a young and noble life was 
cut short by the cowardly dictates of jealous egotism. 



40 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

to an ugly gray, the pack around us began to crack 
threateningly, and the sky darkened to the southward. 

The wind ominously died away. The air thickened 
rapidly. A general feeling of anxiety came over us, 
although my familiarity with storms in the North made 
it possible for me to explain that heavy seas are seldom 
felt within the zone of a large ice-pack, for the reason 
that the icebergs, the flat ice masses, and even the small 
floating fragments, ordinarily hold down the swells. 
Even when the pack begins to break, the lanes of water 
between the fragments thicken under the lower tem- 
perature like an oiled surface, and offer an easy sea. 
Furthermore, a really severe wind would be sure to re- 
lease the schooner, and it would then be possible to trust 
it to its staunch qualities in free water. 

Hardly had we finished dinner when we heard the 
sound of a brisk wind rushing through the rigging. 
Hurrying to the deck, we saw coils of what looked like 
smoky vapor rising in the south as if belched from some 
great volcano. The gloom on the horizon was rapidly 
growing deeper. The sound of the wind changed to a 
threatening, sinister hiss. In the piercing steel-gray 
light we saw the ice heave awesomely, like moving hills, 
above the blackening water. The bergs swayed and 
rocked, and the massed ice gave forth strange, troublous 
sounds. 

Suddenly a channel began to open through the ice 
in front of us. The trisail was quickly set, the other 
sails being left tightly furled, and with the engine help- 
ing to push us in the desired direction, we drew deep 
breaths of relief as we moved out into the free water 
to the westward. 



INTO THE BOREAL WILDS 41 

We felt a sense of safety now, although, clear of the 
ice, the sea rose about us with a sickening suddenness. 
Black as night, the water seemed far more dangerous 
because the waves were everywhere dashing angrily 
against walls of ice. Already strong, the wind veered 
slightly and increased to a fierce, persistent gale. Like 
rubber balls, the bergs bounded and rolled in the sea. 
The sound of the storm was now a thunder suggestive 
of constantly exploding cannons. But, fortunately, we 
were snug aboard, and, keeping the westerly course, 
soon escaped the dangers of ensnaring ice. 

We were still in a heavy storm, and had we not 
had full confidence in the ship, built as she was to with- 
stand the storms of the Grand Banks, we should still 
have felt anxiety, for the schooner rolled and pitched 
and the masts dipped from side to side until they almost 
touched the water. 

Icy water swept the deck. A rain began to fall, 
and quickly sheathed the masts and ropes in ice. Snow 
followed, giving a surface as of sandpaper to the slip- 
pery, icy decks. The temperature was not low, but the 
cutting wind pierced one to the very marrow. Our 
men were drenched with spray and heavily coated with 
ice. Although suffering severely, the sailors maintained 
their courage and appeared even abnormally happy. 
Gradually we progressed into the open sea. In the 
course of four hours the storm began to abate, and, un- 
der a double-reefed foresail, at last we gleefully rode 
out the finish of the storm in safety. 



THE DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR 
QUEST 

ON THE FRIGID PATHWAY OF THEEE CENTURIES OF 

HEROIC MARTYRS MEETING THE STRANGE PEOPLE 

OF THE FARTHEST NORTH — THE LIFE OF THE STONE 

AGE ON THE CHASE WITH THE ESKIMOS — MANEE 

AND SPARTAN ESKIMO COURAGE 

III 

Strange Traits of Northernmost Man 

I have often wondered of late about the dazzling 
white, eerie glamor with which the Northland weaves 
its spell about the heart of a man. I know of nothing 
on earth so strange, so wonderful, withal so sad. Pur- 
suing our course through Melville Bay, I felt the fatal 
magic of it enthralling my very soul. For hours I 
stood on deck alone, the midnight sun, like some 
monstrous perpetual light to some implacable frozen- 
hearted deity, burning blindingly upon the horizon and 
setting the sea aflame. The golden colors suffused my 
mind, and I swam in a sea of molten glitter. 

I was consumed for hours by but one yearning— 
a yearning that filled and intoxicated me — to go on, 
and on, and ever onward, where no man had ever been. 
Perhaps it is the human desire to excel others, to 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 43 

prove, because of the innate egotism of the human unit, 
that one possesses qualities of brain and muscle which 
no other possesses, that has crazed men to perform this, 
the most difficult physical test in the world. The 
lure of the thing is unexplainable. 

During those dizzy hours on deck I thought of 
those who had preceded me ; of heroic men who for three 
centuries had braved suffering, cold and famine, who 
had sacrificed the comforts of civilization, their families 
and friends, who had given their own lives in the pur- 
suit of this mysterious, yea, fruitless quest. I remem- 
bered reading the thrilling tales of those who re- 
turned — tales which had flushed me with excitement 
and inspired me with the same mad ambition. I 
thought of the noble, indefatigable efforts of these men, 
of the heart-sickening failures, in which I too had 
shared. And I felt the indomitable, swift surge of 
their awful, goading determination within me — to sub- 
due the forces of nature, to cover as Icarus did the air 
of those icy spaces, to reach the silver-shining vacant- 
ness which men called the North Pole. 

As we cut the shimmering waters, I felt, as it were, 
the wierd, unseen presence of those who had died there 
— died horribly — men whose bodies had withered, with 
slow suffering, in frigid blasts and famine, who possibly 
had prolonged their suffering by feeding upon their own 
doomed companions — and of others who had perished 
swiftly in the sudden yawning of the leprous white 
mouth of the hungry frozen sea. It is said by some that 
souls live only after death by the energy of great emo- 
tions, great loves, or great ambitions generated through- 
out life. It seemed to me, in those hours of intoxica- 



44 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

tion, that I could feel the implacable, unsatisfied desire 
of these disembodied things, who had vibrated with one 
aim and still yearned in the spirit for what now they 
were physically unable to attain. It seemed that my 
brain was fired with the intensity of all these dead men's 
ambition, that my heart in sympathy beat more turbu- 
lently with the throb of their dead hearts ; I felt grow- 
ing within me, irresistibly, what I did not dare, for fear 
it might not be possible, to confide to Bradley — a de- 
termination, even in the face of peril, to essay the Pole! 

From this time onward, and until I turned my 
back upon the fruitless silver-shining place of desola- 
tion at the apex of the world, I felt the intoxication, 
the intangible lure of the thing exhilarating, buoying 
me gladsomely, beating in my heart with a singing 
rhythm. I recall it now with marveling, and am filled 
with the pathos of it. Yet, despite all that I have 
suffered since because of it, I regret those golden, en- 
raptured hours of perpetual glitter of midnight suns. 

One morning we reached the northern shore of 
Melville Bay, and the bold cliffs of Cape York were 
dimly outlined through a gray mist. Strong southern 
winds had carried such great masses of ice against the 
coast that it was impossible to make a near approach, 
and as a strong wind continued, there was such a heavy 
sea along the bobbing line of outer ice as to make it 
quite impossible to land and thence proceed toward 
the shore. 

We were desirous of meeting the natives of Cape 
York, but these ice conditions forced us to proceed 
without touching here, and so we set our course for the 
next of the northernmost villages, at North Star Bay. 



Driving spur of the polar quest 45 

By noon the mist had vanished, and we saw clearly the 
steep slopes and warm color of crimson cliffs rising pre- 
cipitously out of the water. The coast line is about two 
thousand feet high, evidently the remains of an old 
tableland which extends a considerable distance north- 
ward. Here and there were short glaciers which had 
worn the cliffs away in their ceaseless effort to reach 
the sea. The air was full of countless gulls, guillemots, 
little auks and eider-ducks. 

As the eye followed the long and lofty line of 
crimson cliffs, there came into sight a towering, conical 
rock, a well-known guidepost for the navigator. Con- 
tinuing, we caught sight of the long ice wall of Petowik 
Glacier, and behind this, extending far to the eastward, 
the scintillating, white expanse of the overland-ice which 
blankets the interior of all Greenland. 

The small and widely scattered villages of the 
Eskimos of this region are hemmed in by the ice walls 
of Melville Bay on the southward, the stupendous 
cliffs of Humboldt Glacier on the north, an arm of the 
sea to the westward, and the hopelessly desolate Green- 
land interior toward the east. 

There is really no reason why many Eskimos 
should not live here, for there is abundant food in both 
sea and air, and even considerable game on land. Blue 
and white foxes are everywhere to be seen. There is 
the seal, the walrus, the narwhal, and the white whale. 
There is the white bear, monarch of the Polar wilds, 
who roams in every direction over his kingdom. The 
principal reason why the population remains so small 
lies in the hazardous conditions of life. Children are 
highly prized, and a marriageable woman or girl who 



46 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

has one or more of them is much more valuable as a 
match than one who is childless. 

The coast line here is paradoxically curious, for 
although the coast exceeds but barely more than two 
hundred miles of latitude it presents in reality a sea 
line of about four thousand miles when the great in- 
dentations of Wolstenholm Sound, Inglefield Gulf, 
and other bays, sounds and fiords are measured. 

We sailed cautiously now about Cape Atholl, 
which we were to circle; a fog lay upon the waters, 
almost entirely hiding the innumerable icebergs, and 
making it difficult to pick our course among the danger- 
ous rocks in this vicinity. 

Rounding Cape Atholl, we sailed into Wolsten- 
holm Sound and turned our prow toward the Eskimo 
village on North Star Bay. 

North Star Bay is guarded by a promontory ex- 
pressively named Table Mountain, "Oomanaq." As 
we neared this headland, many natives came out in 
kayaks to meet us. Inasmuch as I knew most of them 
personally, I felt a singular thrill of pleasure in seeing 
them. Years before, I learned their simple-hearted 
faithfulness. Knud Rasmussen, a Danish writer, living 
as a native among the Eskimos, apparently for the 
sake of getting local color, was in one of the canoes 
and came aboard the ship. 

As it was necessary to make slight repairs to the 
schooner, we here had to follow the primitive method of 
docking by preliminary beaching her. This was done at 
high tide when the propeller, which had been bent — the 
principal damage to the ship — was straightened. At 
the same time we gave the yacht a general looking-over, 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 47 

and righted a universal joint whose loosening had dis- 
abled the engine. 

Meanwhile the launch kept busy scurrying to and 
fro, our quest being occasionally rewarded with eider- 
ducks or other game. Late at night, a visit was made 
to the village of Oomanooi. It could hardly be called 
a village, for it consisted merely of seven triangular 
sealskin tents, conveniently placed on picturesque rocks. 
Gathered about these in large numbers, were men, 
women and children, shivering in the midnight chill. 

These were odd-looking specimens of humanity. 
In height, the men averaged but five feet, two inches, 
and the women four feet, ten. All had broad, fat faces, 
heavy bodies and well-rounded limbs. Their skin was 
slightly bronzed; both men and women had coal-black 
hair and brown eyes. Their noses were short, and their 
hands and feet short, but thick. 

A genial woman was found at every tent opening, 
ready to receive visitors in due form. We entered and 
had a short chat with each family. Subjects of con- 
versation were necessarily limited, but after all, they 
were about the same as they would have been in a 
civilized region. We conversed as to whether or not all 
of ms had been well, of deaths, marriages and births. 
Then we talked of the luck of the chase, which meant 
prosperity or need of food. Even had it been a civilized 
community, there would have been little questioning re- 
garding national or international affairs, because, in 
such case, everyone reads the papers. Here there 
was no comment on such subjects simply because 
nobody cares anything about them or has any papers 
to read. 



48 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

That a prominent Eskimo named My-ah had dis- 
posed of a few surplus wives to gain the means whereby 
to acquire a few more dogs, was probably the most 
important single item of information conveyed. I was 
also informed that at the present time there happened 
to be only one other man with two wives. 

Marriage, among these folk, is a rather free and 
easy institution. It is, indeed, not much more than a 
temporary tie of possession. Men exchange partners 
with each other much in the manner that men in other 
countries swap horses. And yet, the position of women 
is not so humble as this custom might seem to indicate, 
for they themselves are permitted, not infrequently, to 
choose new partners. These exceedingly primitive 
ideas work out surprisingly well in practice in these 
isolated regions, for such exchanges, when made, are 
seemingly to the advantage and satisfaction of all 
parties; no regrets are expressed, and the feuds of 
divorce courts, of alimony proceedings, of damages for 
alienation of affection, which prevail in so-called civili- 
zation, are unknown. 

It is certainly a curious thing that these simple 
but intelligent people are able to control their own 
destinies with a comfortable degree of success, although 
they are without laws or literature and without any 
fixed custom to regulate the matrimonial bond. 

It would seem as if there ought to be a large popu- 
lation, for there is an average of about three fat, clever 
children for each family, the youngest as a rule pictur- 
esquely resting in a pocket on the mother's back. But 
the hardships of life in this region are such that acci- 
dents and deaths keep down the population. 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 49 

Each tent has a raised platform, upon which all 
sleep. The edge of this makes a seat, and on each 
side are placed stone lamps in which blubber is burned, 
with moss as a wick. Over this is a drying rack, also a 
few sticks, but there is no other furniture. Their dress 
of furs gives the Eskimos a look of savage fierceness 
which their kindly faces and easy temperament do not 
warrant. 

On board the yacht were busy days of barter. Furs 
and ivory were gathered in heaps in exchange for guns, 
knives and needles. Every seaman, from cabin boy to 
captain, suddenly got rich in the gamble of trade for 
prized blue-fox skins and narwhal tusks. 

The Eskimos were equally elated with their part 
of the bargain. For a beautiful fox skin, of less use to 
a native than a dog pelt, he could secure a pocket knife 
that would serve him half a lifetime ! 

A woman exchanged her fur pants, worth a hun- 
dred dollars, for a red pocket handkerchief with which 
she would decorate her head or her igloo for years 
to come. 

Another gave her bearskin mits for a few needles, 
and she conveyed the idea that she had the long end 
of the trade! A fat youth with a fatuous smile dis- 
played with glee two bright tin cups, one for himself 
and one for his prospective bride. He was positively 
happy in having obtained nine cents' worth of tin for 
only an ivory tusk worth ninety dollars ! 

With the coming of the midnight tide we lifted 
the schooner to an even keel from the makeshift dry- 
dock on the beach. She was then towed out into the 
bay by the launch and two dories, and anchored. 



50 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Our first walrus adventures began in Wolstenholm 
Sound during the beautiful nightless days of mid- 
August. The local environment was fascinating. The 
schooner was anchored in North Star Bay, a lake of 
glitter in which wild men in skin canoes darted after 
seals and eider-ducks. On grassy shores were sealskin 
tents, about which fur-clad women and children vied 
with wolf-dogs for favorite positions to see the queer 
doings of white men. A remarkable landmark made the 
place conspicuous. A great table-topped rock rose sud- 
denly out of a low foreland to an altitude of about six 
hundred feet. About this giant cliff, gulls, guillemots 
and ravens talked and winged uproariously. The rock 
bore the native name of Oomanaq. With the unique 
Eskimo manner of name-coining, the village was called 
Oomanooi. 

Wolstenholm Sound is a large land-locked body of 
water, with arms reaching to the narrow gorges of the 
overland sea of ice, from which icebergs tumble ceas- 
lessly. The sparkling water reflected the surroundings 
in many shades of blue and brown, relieved by strong 
contrasts of white and black. On the western sky line 
were the chiseled walls of Acponie and other islands, 
and beyond a steel-gray mist in which was wrapped the 
frozen sea of the Polar gateway. Fleets of icebergs 
moved to and fro, dragging tails of drift be jeweled 
with blue crystal. 

Far out — ten miles from our outlook — there was 
a meeting of the currents. Here, small pieces of sea- 
ice slowly circled in an eddy, and upon them were herds 
of walruses. We did not see them, but their shrill voices 
rang through the icy air like a wireless message. This 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 51 

was a call to action which Mr. Bradley could not resist, 
and preparations were begun for the combat. 

The motor boat — the most important factor in the 
chase — had been especially built for just such an en- 
counter. Covered with a folding whale-back top en- 
tirely painted white to resemble ice, we had hoped to 
hunt walrus under suitable Arctic cover. 

Taking a white dory in tow, two Eskimo harpoon- 
ers were invited to follow. The natives in kayaks soon 
discovered to their surprise that their best speed was not 
equal to ours — for the first time they were beaten in 
their own element. For ages the Eskimos had rested 
secure in the belief that the kayak was the fastest thing 
afloat. They had been beaten by big ships, of course, 
but these had spiritual wings and did not count in the 
race of man's craft. This little launch, however, with 
its rapid-fire gas explosions, made their eyes bulge to 
a wondering, wide-open, seal-like curiosity. They 
begged to be taken aboard to watch the loading of the 
engines ; they thought we fed it with cartridges. 

After a delightful run of an hour, a pan of ice 
was sighted with black hummocks on it. "Ahwek! 
Ahwek!" the Eskimos shouted. A similar sound floated 
over the oily waters from many walrus throats.- The 
walruses were about three miles to the southwest. At a 
slower speed we advanced two miles more. In the 
meantime Mr. Bradley cleared the deck for action. The 
direction of the hunting tactics was now turned over 
to My-ah. The mate was at the wheel. I pushed the 
levers of the gasoline kicker. Our line of attack was 
ordered at right angles to the wind. As we neared the 
game, the engines were stopped. 



82 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Looking through glasses, the sight of the gregari- 
ous herd made our hearts quicken. They were all 
males of tremendous size, with glistening tusks with 
which they horned one another in efforts for favorable 
positions. Some were asleep, others basked in the sun 
with heads turning lazily from side to side. Now and 
then, they uttered sleepy, low grunts. They were 
quivering in a gluttonous slumber, while the organs piled 
up their bank account of fat to pay the costs of the 
gamble of the coming winter night. 

With muffled paddles the launch was now silently 
propelled forward, while the kayaks stealthily ad- 
vanced to deliver the harpoons. The Eskimo reason 
for this mode of procedure is based on a careful study 
of the walrus' habits. Its nose in sleep is always 
pointed windwards. Its ears are at all times sensitive 
to noises from every direction, while the eyes during 
wakeful moments sweep the horizon. But its horizon 
is very narrow. Only the nose and the ear sense the 
distant alarm. We advanced very slowly and cautiously, 
and that only when all heads were down. Our boat 
slowly got within three hundred yards of the herd. Pre- 
paring their implements to strike, the Eskimos had ad- 
vanced to within fifty feet. The moment was tense. 
Of a sudden, a tumultuous floundering sound smote the 
air. The sleeping creatures awoke, and with a start 
leaped into the sea. Turning their kayaks, the Eskimos 
paddled a wild retreat and sought the security of the 
launch. The sport of that herd was lost to us. Al- 
though they darted about under water in a threatening 
manner, they only rose to the surface at a safe distance. 

Scanning the surroundings with our glasses, about 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 53 

two miles to the south another group was sighted. 
This time Bradley, as the chief nimrod, assumed direc- 
tion. The kayaks and the Eskimos were placed in the 
dory. Tactics were reversed. Instead of creeping up 
slowly, a sudden rush was planned. No heed was taken 
of noise or wind. The carburetor was opened, the spark 
lever of the magneto was advanced to its limit, and we 
shot through the waters like a torpedo boat. As we 
neared the herd, the dory, with its Eskimos, was freed 
from the launch. The Eskimos were given no instruc- 
tions, and they wisely chose to keep out of the battle. 

As we got to within two hundred yards, the canvas 
top of the launch fell and a heavy gun bombardment 
began. The walruses had not had time to wake; the sud- 
denness of the onslaught completely dazed them. One 
after another dropped his ponderous head with a 
sudden jerk as a prize to the marksmen, while the 
launch, at reduced speed, encircled the walrus-encum- 
bered pan. Few escaped. There were heads and meat 
and skins enough to satisfy all wants for a long time 
to follow. But the game was too easy — the advantage 
of an up-to-date sportsman had been carried to its 
highest degree of perfection. It was otherwise, how- 
ever, in the walrus battles that followed later — battles 
on the success of which depended the possibility of my 
being able to assail the northern ice desert, in an effort 
to reach the Polar goal. 

Oomanooi was but one of six villages among which 
the tribe had divided its two hundred and fifty people 
for the current season. To study these interesting folk, 
to continue the traffic and barter, and to enjoy for a 
short time the rare sport of sailing and hunting in this 



54 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

wild region, we decided to visit as many of the villages 
as possible. 

In the morning the anchor was raised and we set 
sail in a light wind headed for more northern villages. 
It was a gray day, with a quiet sea. The speed of the 
yacht was not fast enough to be exciting, so Mr. 
Bradley suggested lowering the launch for a crack at 
ducks, or a chase at walrus or a drive at anything that 
happened to cut the waters. His harpoon gun was 
taken, as it was hoped that a whale might come our 
way, but the gun proved unsatisfactory and did not 
contribute much to our sport. In the fleet launch we 
were able to run all around the schooner as she slowly 
sailed over Wolstenholm Sound. 

Ducks were secured in abundance. Seals were 
given chase, but they were able to escape us. Nearing 
Saunders Island, a herd of walruses was seen on a pan of 
drift ice far ahead. The magneto was pushed, the 
carburetor opened, and out we rushed after the shout- 
ing beasts. Two, with splendid tusks, were obtained, 
and two tons of meat and blubber were turned over to 
our Eskimo allies. 

The days of hunting proved quite strenuous, and in 
the evening we were glad to seek the comfort of our 
cosy cabin, after dining on eider-ducks and other game 
delicacies. 

A few Eskimos had asked permission to accom- 
pany us to a point farther north. Among them was a 
widow, to whom, for herself and her children, we had 
offered a large bed, with straw in it, between decks, but 
which, savage as she was, she had refused, saying she 
preferred the open air on deck. There she arranged a 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 55 

den among the anchor chains, under a shelter of seal 
skins. 

In tears, she told us the story of her life, a story 
which offered a peep into the tragedy and at the same 
time the essential comedy of Eskimo existence. It 
came in response to a question from me as to how the 
world had used her, for I had known her years before. 
At my simple question, she buried her face in her hands 
and for a time could only mutter rapidly and unin- 
telligibly to her two little boys. Then, between sobs, 
she told me her story. 

Ma-nee — such was her name — was a descendant of 
the Eskimos of the American side. A foreign belle, 
and, although thin, fair to look upon, as Eskimo beauty 
goes, her hand was sought early by the ardent youths 
of the tribe, who, truth to tell, look upon utility as more 
desirable than beauty in a wife. The heart of Ma-nee 
throbbed to the pleadings of one Ik-wa, a youth lithe 
and brave, with brawn and sinews as resilient as rubber 
and strong as steel, handsome, dark, with flashing eyes, 
yet with a heart as cruel as the relentless wind and cold 
sea of the North. Ma-nee married Ik-wa and bore to 
him several children. These, which meant wealth of the 
most valuable kind (children even exceeding in value 
dogs, tusks and skins), meant the attainment of Ik-wa's 
selfish purpose. Ma-nee was fair, but her hands were 
not adroit with the needle, nor was she fair in the 
plump fashion desirable in wives. 

Ik-wa met Ah-tah, a good seamstress, capable of 
much toil, not beautiful, but round and plump. Where- 
upon, Ik-wa took Ah-tah to wife, and leading Ma-nee to 
the door of their igloo, ordered her to leave. Cruel as 



56 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

can be these natives, they also possess a persistence and 
a tenderness that manifest themselves in strange, 
dramatic ways. Ma-nee, disconsolate but brave, de- 
parted. There being at the time a scarcity of marriage- 
able women in the village, Ma-nee was soon wooed by 
another, an aged Eskimo, whose muscles had begun to 
wither, whose eyes no longer flashed as did Ik-wa's, 
but whose heart was kind. To him Ma-nee bore two 
children, those which she had with her on deck. To 
them, unfortunately, descended the heritage of their 
father's f railities ; one — now eight — being the only deaf 
and dumb Eskimo in all the land; the other, the 
younger, aged three, a weakling with a pinched and 
pallid face and thin, gaunt arms. Ma-nee's husband 
was not a good hunter, for age and cold had sapped his 
vigor. Their home was peaceful if not prosperous ; the 
two loved one another, and, because of their defects, 
Ma-nee grew to love her little ones unwontedly. 

Just before the beginning of the long winter night, 
the old father, anxious to provide food and deer skins 
for the coming months of continuous darkness, ven- 
tured alone in search of game among the mountains 
of the interior. Day after day, while the gloom de- 
scended, Ma-nee, dry eyed waited. The aged father 
never came back. Returning hunters finally brought 
news that he had perished alone, from a gun accident, in 
the icy wilderness, and they had found him, his frozen, 
mummied face peeping anxiously from the mantle of 
snow. Ma-nee wept broken-heartedly. 

Ma-nee gazed into the faces of the two children 
with a wild, tragic wistfulhess. By the stern and in- 
violable law of the Eskimos, Ma-nee knew her two be- 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 57 

loved ones were condemned to die. In this land, where 
food is at a premium, and where every helpless and de- 
pendent life means a sensible drain upon the tribe's 
resources, they have evolved that Spartan law which 
results in the survival of only the fittest. The one child, 
because of its insufficient senses, the other because it 
was still on its mother's back and under three at the 
time its father died, and with no father to support 
them, were doomed. Kind-hearted as the Eskimos 
naturally are, they can at times, in the working out of 
that code which means continued existence, be terribly 
brutal. Their fierce struggle with the elements for 
very existence has developed in them an elemental 
fierceness. From probable experience in long-past 
losses of life from contagion, they instinctively destroy 
every igloo in which a native dies, or, at times, to save 
the igloo, they heartlessly seize the dying, and dragging 
him through the low door, cast him, ere breath has 
ceased, into the life-stilling outer world. 

This inviolable custom of ages Ma-nee, with a 
Spartan courage, determined to break. During the 
long night which had just passed, friends had been kind 
to Ma-nee, but now that she was defying Eskimo 
usage, she could expect no assistance. Brutal as he 
had been to her, hopeless as seemed such prospects, 
Ma-nee thought of the cruel Ik-wa and determined to 
go to him, with the two defective children of her second 
husband, beg him to accept them as his own and to take 
her, as a secondary wife, a servant — a position of 
humiliation and hard labor. In this determination, 
which can be appreciated only by those who know how 
implacable and heartless the natives can be, Ma-nee was 



58 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

showing one of their marvellous traits, that indomitable 
courage, persistence and dogged hopefulness which, in 
my two later companions, E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, 
enabled them, with me, to reach the Pole. 

I admired the spirit of Ma-nee, and promised to 
help her, although the mission of reuniting the two 
seemed dubious. 

Ma-nee was not going to Ik-wa entirely empty- 
handed, however, for she possessed some positive wealth 
in the shape of several dogs, and three bundles of skins 
and sticks which comprised her household furniture. 

We soon reached the village where Ma-nee was to 
be put ashore. Very humbly, the heroic mother and 
her two frail children went to Ik-wa's tent. Ik-wa 
was absent hunting, and his wife, who had supplanted 
Ma-nee, a fat, unsociable creature, appeared. Weep- 
ing, Ma-nee told of her plight and begged for shelter. 
The woman stolidly listened; then, without a word, 
turned her back on the forlorn mother and entered her 
tent. For the unintentional part we had played she 
gave us exceedingly cold, frowning looks which were 
quite expressive. 

Ma-nee now went to the other villagers. They lis- 
tened to her plans, and their primitive faces lighted 
with sympathy. I soon saw them serving a pot of steam- 
ing oil meat in her honor — a feast in which we were 
urgently invited to partake, but which we, fortunately, 
found some good excuse for avoiding. Although she had 
violated a custom of the tribe, these people, both stern- 
hearted and tender, recognized the greatness of a 
mother-love which had braved an unwritten law of ages, 
and they took her in. Several months later, on a return 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 59 

to the village, I saw Ik-wa himself. Although he did not 
thank me for the unwitting part I had played in their 
reunion, he had taken Ma-nee back, and near his own 
house was a new igloo in which the mother lived with her 
children. 

Resuming our journey, a snow squall soon frosted 
the deck of the yacht, and to escape the icy air we retired 
early to our berths. During the night the speed of the 
yacht increased, and when we appeared on deck again, 
at four o'clock in the morning, the rays of the August 
sun seemed actually warm. 

We passed the ice-battered and storm-swept cliffs 
of Cape Parry and entered Whale Sound. On a sea of 
gold, strewn with ice islands of ultramarine and alabas- 
ter, whales spouted and walrus shouted. Large flocks 
of little auks rushed rapidly by. 

The wind was light, but the engine took us along at 
a pace just fast enough to allow us to enjoy the superb 
surroundings. In the afternoon we were well into 
Inglefield Gulf, and near Itiblu. There was a strong 
head wind, and enough ice about to make us cautious in 
our prospect. 

We aimed here to secure Eskimo guides and with 
them seek caribou in Olrik's Bay. While the schooner 
was tacking for a favorable berth in the drift off Kanga, 
the launch was lowered, and we sought to interview the 
Eskimos of Itiblu. The ride was a wet one, for a short, 
choppy sea poured icy spray over us and tumbled us 
about. 

There were only one woman, a few children, and 
about a score of dogs at the place. The woman was a 
remarkably fast talker, long out of practice. She told 



60 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

us that her husband and the other men were absent on a 
caribou hunt, and then, with a remarkably rapid articu- 
lation and without a single question from us, plunged 
incessantly on through all the news of the tribe for a 
year. After gasping for breath like a smothered seal, 
she then began with news of previous years and a his- 
tory of forgotten ages. We started back for the launch, 
and she invited herself to the pleasure of our company 
to the beach. 

We had gone only a few steps before it occurred to 
her that she was in need of something. Would we not 
get her a few boxes of matches in exchange for a narwhal 
tusk? We should be delighted, and a handful of sweets 
went with the bargain. Her boy brought down two 
ivory tusks, each eight feet in length, the two being 
worth one hundred and fifty dollars. Had we a knife 
to spare? Yes; and a tin spoon was also given, just to 
show that we were liberal. 

The yacht was headed northward, across Inglefield 
Gulf. With a fair wind, we cut tumbling seas of ebony 
with a racing dash. Though the wind was strong, the 
air was remarkably clear. 

The great chiselled cliffs of Cape Auckland rose in 
terraced grandeur under the midnight sun. The dis- 
tance was twelve miles, and it was twelve miles of sub- 
merged rocks and shallow water. 

It was necessary to give Karnah a wide berth. 
There were bergs enough about to hold the water down, 
though an occasional sea rose with a sickening thump. 
At Karnah we went ashore. There was not a man in 
town, all being absent on a distant hunting campaign. 
But, though there were no men, the place was far from 



DRIVING SPUR OF THE POLAR QUEST 61 

being deserted, for five women, fifteen children and 
forty-five dogs came out to meet us. 

Here we saw five sealskin tents pitched among the 
bowlders of a glacial stream. An immense quantity of 
narwhal meat was lying on the rocks and stones to dry. 
Skins were stretched on the grass, and a general air of 
thrift was evidenced about the place. Bundles of seal- 
skins, packages of pelts and much ivory were brought 
out to trade and establish friendly intercourse. We 
gave the natives sugar, tobacco and ammunition in 
quantities to suit their own estimate of value. 

Would we not place ourselves at ease and stay for 
a day or two, as their husbands would soon return? We 
were forced to decline their hospitality, for without the 
harbor there was too much wind to keep the schooner 
waiting. Eskimos have no salutation except a greeting 
smile or a parting look of regret. We got both at the 
same time as we stepped into the launch and shouted 
good-bye. 

The captain was told to proceed to Cape Robert- 
son. The wind eased, and a descending fog soon blotted 
out part of the landscape, horizon and sky. It hung 
like a gray pall a thousand feet above us, leaving the air 
below this bright and startlingly clear. 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 

EXCITING HUNTS FOR GAME WITH THE ESKIMOS — AR- 
RIVAL AT ETAH SPEEDY TRIP TO ANNOATOK, THE 

WINDY PLACE, WHERE SUPPLIES ARE FOUND IN 
ABUNDANCE — EVERYTHING AUSPICIOUS FOR DASH TO 
THE POLE — DETERMINATION TO ESSAY THE EFFORT — 
BRADLEY INFORMED — DEBARK FOR THE POLE — THE 
YACHT RETURNS 



IV 



Alone with Our Destiny, Seven Hundred Miles 
From the Pole 

We awoke off Cape Robertson early on August 13, 
and went ashore before breakfast. The picturesque 
coast here rises suddenly to an altitude of about two 
thousand feet, and is crowned with a gleaming, silver 
ice cap. Large bays, blue glacial walls and prominent 
headlands give a pleasing variety. It is much like the 
coast of all Greenland. On its southern exposure the 
eroded Huronian rocks provide shelter for millions of 
little auks. They dart incessantly from cliff to sea in a 
chattering cloud of wings. Rather rich and grassy ver- 
dure offers an oasis for the Arctic hare, while the blue 
fox finds life easy here, for he can fill his winter den 
with the fat feathered creatures which teem by millions. 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 63 

The Eskimos profit by the combination, and pitch 
their camp at the foot of the cliffs, for the chase on sea 
is nearly as good here as in other places, while land 
creatures literally tumble into the larder. 

As we approached the shore, ten men, nine women, 
thirty-one children and one hundred and six dogs came 
out to meet us. I count the children and dogs for they 
are equally important in Eskimo economy. The latter 
are by far the most important to the average Caucasian 
in the Arctic. 

Only small game had fallen to the Eskimos' lot, 
and they were eager to venture out with us after big 
game. Mr. Bradley gathered a suitable retinue of 
native guides, and we were not long in arranging a 
compact. 

Free passage, the good graces of the cook, and a 
knife each were to be their pay. A caribou hunt was 
not sufficiently novel to merit a return to Olrik's Bay, 
where intelligent hunting is always rewarded, but it 
was hoped we might get a hunt at Kookaan, near the 
head of Robertson Bay.* 

Although hunting in the bay was not successful 
from a practical standpoint, it afforded exciting pleas- 



*The Death of John M. Verhoeff. — As we passed Robertson Bay, 
there came up memories of the tragedy of Verhoeff. This young 
man was a member of Peary's first expedition, in 1891. He had paid $2,000 
toward the fund of the expedition. Verhoeff was young and enthusiastic. 
He gave his time, his money, and he risked his life for Peary. He was 
treated with about the same consideration as that accorded the Eskimo 
dogs. When I last saw him in camp, he was in tears, telling of Peary's 
injustice. Mrs. Peary — I advert to this with all possible reluctance — had 
done much to make his life bitter, and over this he talked for days. 
Finally he said: "I will never go home in the same ship with that man 
and that woman." It was the last sentence he uttered in my hearing. 
He did not go home in that ship. Instead, he wandered off over the 
glacier, where he left his body in the blue depths of a crevasse. 



64 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ure in perilous waters. Even during these hours of 
sport, my mind was busy with tentative plans for a 
Polar journey. Whenever I aimed my gun at a snort- 
ing walrus, or at some white-winged Arctic bird, I felt a 
thrill in the thought that upon the skill of my arms, of 
my aim, and upon that of the natives we were later to 
join, would depend the getting of food sufficient to en- 
able me to embark upon my dream. Everything I did 
now began to have some bearing upon this glorious, in- 
toxicating prospect; it colored my life, day and night. I 
realized how easily I might fail even should conditions 
be favorable enough to warrant the journey; for this 
reason, because of the unwelcome doubt which at times 
chilled my enthusiasm, I did not yet confide to Bradley 
my growing ambition. 

Returning to the settlement, we paid our hunting 
guides, made presents to the women and children, and 
set sail for Etah. An offshore breeze filled the big wings 
of the canvas. As borne on the back of some great 
white bird, we soared northward into a limpid molten 
sea. From below came the music of our phonograph, 
curiously shouting its tunes, classic and popular, in that 
grim, golden region of glory and death. 

It is curious how ambition sets the brain on fire, 
and quickens the heart throbs. As we sped over the 
magical waters, the wild golden air electric about me, 
I believe I felt an ecstasy of desire such as mystics 
achieved from fasting and prayer. It was the surge of 
an ambition which began to grow mightily within me, 
which I felt no obstacle could withstand, and which, 
later, I believe carried me forward with its wings of 
faith when my body well nigh refused to move. We 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 65 

passed Cape Alexander and entered Smith Sound. We 
sped by storm-chiselled cliffs, whereupon the hand of 
nature had written a history, unintelligible to humans, 
as with a pen of iron. The sun was low. Great bergs 
loomed up in the radiant distance, and reflecting silver- 
shimmering halos, seemed to me as the silver-winged 
ghosts of those who died in this region and who were 
borne alone on the wind and air. 

Nature seemed to sing with exultation. Approach- 
ing a highland of emerald green and seal brown, I heard 
the wild shouting of hawks from the summit, and from 
below the shrill chattering of millions of auks with baby 
families. And nearer, from the life enraptured waters, 
the minor note of softly cooing ducks and mating guil- 
lemots. From the interior land of ice, rising above the 
low booming of a sapphire glacier moving majestically 
to the sea, rang the bark of foxes, the shrill notes of the 
ptarmigan, and from an invisible farther distance the 
raucous wolf howl of Eskimo dogs. 

Before us, at times, would come a burst of spouting 
spray, and a whale would rise to the surface of the sea. 
Nearby, on a floating island of ice, mother walrus would 
soothingly murmur to her babies. From invisible 
places came the paternal voices of the oogzook, and as 
we went forward, seals, white whales and unicorns ap- 
peared, speaking perhaps the sign language of the 
animal deaf and dumb in the blue submarine. 

Occasionally, there was an explosion, when 
thunder as from a hundred cannons echoed from cliff to 
cliff. A berg was shattered to ruins. Following this 
would rise the frightened voices of every animal above 
water. Now and then, from ultramarine grottoes issued 



66 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

weird, echoing sounds, and almost continually rising to 
ringing peals and shuddering into silence, reiterant, in- 
cessant, came nature's bugle-calls — calls of the wind, 
of sundering glaciers, of sudden rushes of ice rivers, of 
exploding gases and of disintegrating bergs. With 
those sounds pealing in our ears clarion-like, we entered 
the "Gates of Hades," the Polar gateway, bound for 
the harbor where the last fringe of the world's humanity 
straggles finally up on the globe. 

As we entered Foulke Fiord, half a gale came 
from the sea. We steered for the settlement of 
Etah. A tiny settlement it was, for it was com- 
posed of precisely four tents, which for this sea- 
son, had been pitched beside a small stream, just 
inside of the first projecting point on the north shore. 
Inside this point there was sheltered water for the 
Eskimo's kayaks, and it also made a good harbor for the 
schooner. It is possible in favorable seasons to push 
through Smith Sound, over Kane Basin, into Kennedy 
Channel, but the experiment is always at the risk of the 
vessel. 

So, as there was no special reasons for us to hazard 
life in making this attempt, we decided to prepare the 
schooner here for the return voyage. 

These preparations would occupy several days. 
We determined to spend as much of this time as pos- 
sible in sport, since much game abounded in this region. 
Before we landed we watched the Eskimos harpoon a 
white whale. There were no unexplored spots in this 
immediate vicinity, as both Doctor Kane and Doctor 
Hayes, in the middle of the last century, had been 
thoroughly over the ground. The little auks kept us 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 67 

busy for a day after our arrival, while hares, tumbling 
like snowballs over wind-polished, Archaean rocks, gave 
another day of gun recreation. Far beyond, along the 
inland ice, were caribou, but we preferred to confine our 
hunting to the seashore. The bay waters were alive 
with eider-ducks and guillemots, while, just outside, 
walruses dared us to venture in open contest on the 
wind-swept water. 

After satisfying our desire for the hunt, we pre- 
pared to start for Annoatok, twenty-five miles to the 
northward. This is the northernmost settlement of the 
globe, a place beyond which even the hardy Eskimos 
attempt nothing but brief hunting excursions, and 
where, curiously, money is useless because it has no 
value. 

We decided to go in the motor boat, so the tanks 
were filled with gasoline and suitable food and camp 
equipment were loaded. On the morning of August 24, 
we started for Annoatok. 

It was a beautiful day. The sun glowed in a sky 
of Italian blue. A fight air crossed the sea, which 
glowed dully, like ground glass. Passing inside of 
Littleton Island, we searched for relics along Life- 
boat Cove. There the Polaris was stranded in a sinking 
condition in 1872, with fourteen men on board. The 
desolate cliffs of Cape Hatherton were a midsummer 
blaze of color and light that contrasted strongly with 
the cold blue of the many towering bergs. 

As we went swiftly past the series of wind-swept 
headlands, the sea and air became alive with seals, wal- 
ruses and birds. We did little shooting as we were 
eagerly bent on reaching Annoatok. 



68 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

As we passed the sharp rocks of Cairn Point, we 
saw a cluster of nine tents on a small bay under Cape 
Inglefield. 

"Look, look! There is Annoatok!" cried Tung-we, 
our native guide. Looking farther, we saw that the 
entire channel beyond was blocked with a jam of ice. 
Fortunately we were able to take our boat as far as 
we desired. A perpendicular cliff served as a pier to 
which to fasten it. Here it could rise and fall with the 
tide, and in little danger from drifting ice. 

Ordinarily, Annoatok is a town of only a single 
family or perhaps two, but we found it unusually large 
and populous, for the best hunters had gathered here 
for the winter bear hunt. Their summer game catch 
had been very lucky. Immense quantities of meat were 
strewn along the shore, under mounds of stone. More 
than a hundred dogs, the standard by which Eskimo 
prosperity is measured, yelped a greeting, and twelve 
long-haired, wild men came out to meet us as friends. 

It came strongly to me that this was the spot to 
make the base for a Polar dash. Here were Eskimo 
helpers, strong, hefty natives from whom I could select 
the best to accompany me; here, by a fortunate chance, 
were the best dog teams; here were plenty of furs for 
clothing; and here was unlimited food. These supplies, 
combined with supplies on the schooner, would give all 
that was needed for the campaign. Nothing could have 
been more ideal. 

For the past several days, having realized the 
abundance of game and the auspicious weather, I had 
thought more definitely of making a dash for the Pole. 
With all conditions in my favor, might I not, by one 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 69 

powerful effort, achieve the thing that had haunted me 
for years? My former failures dogged me. If I did 
not try now, it was a question if an opportunity should 
ever again come to me. 

Now every condition was auspicious for the effort. 
I confess the task seemed audacious almost to the verge 
of impossibility. But, with all these advantages so 
fortunately placed in my hands, it took on a new and 
almost weird fascination. My many years of school- 
ing in both Polar zones and in mountaineering would 
now be put to their highest test. 

Yes, I would try, I told myself; I believed I should 
succeed. I informed Mr. Bradley of my determination. 
He was not over-optimistic about success, but he shook 
my hand and wished me luck. From his yacht he 
volunteered food, fuel, and other supplies, for local 
camp use and trading, for which I have been thankful. 

"Annoatok" means "a windy place." There is really 
nothing there to be called a harbor ; but we now planned 
to bring the schooner to this point and unload her 
on the rocky shore, a task not unattended with danger. 
However, the base had to be made somewhere here- 
about, as Etah itself is still more windy than Annoatok. 
Moreover, at Etah the landing is more difficult, and it 
was not nearly so convenient for my purpose as a base. 

Besides, there were gathered at Annoatok, as I 
have described, with needed food and furs in abundance, 
the best Eskimos* in all Greenland, from whom, by 



*Before he sailed on his last Northern expedition Mr. Peary, learning 
that I had preceded him, took the initial step in his campaign to discredit 
me by issuing a statement to the effect that I was bent upon the unfair 
and dishonest purpose of enlisting in my aid Eskimos which he had the 
exclusive right to command. Mr. Peary's attitude that the Eskimos, 



70 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

reason of the rewards from civilization which I could 
give them, such as knives, guns, ammunition, old iron, 
needles and matches, I could select a party more effi- 
cient, because of their persistence, tough fibre, courage 
and familiarity with Arctic traveling, than any party 
of white men could be. 

The possible combination of liberal supplies and 
valiant natives left absolutely nothing to be desired to 
insure success, so far as preliminaries were concerned. 
It was only necessary that good health, endurable 
weather and workable ice should follow. The expendi- 
ture of a million dollars could not have placed an ex- 
pedition at a better advantage. The opportunity was 
too good to be lost. We therefore returned to Etah to 
prepare for the quest. 

At Etah, practically everything that was to be 
landed at Annoatok was placed on deck, so that the 
dangerous stop beside the rocks of Annoatok could be 
made a brief one. The ship was prepared for the con- 
tingency of a storm. 

Late in the evening of August 26, the entire 
population of Etah was taken aboard, the anchor was 



because he had given them guns, powder and needles, belong to him, is as 
absurd as his pretension to the sole ownership of the North Pole. Al- 
though Mr. Peary had spent about a quarter of a century essaying the 
task by means of luxurious expeditions, he had done little more than other 
explorers and did not, in my opinion, either secure an option on the Pole 
or upon the services of the natives. In giving guns, etc., to the natives 
he also did no more than other explorers, and the Danes for many years, 
have done. Nor was this with him a magnanimous matter of gracious 
bounty, for, in prodigal return for all he gave them, Mr. PeaTy on every 
expedition secured a fortune in furs and ivory. The Eskimos belong to no 
one. For ages they have worked out their rigorous existence without 
the aid of white men, and Mr. Peary's pretension becomes not only 
absurd but grotesque when one realizes that following the arrival of ships 
with white crews, the natives have fallen easy victims of loathsome 
epidemics, mostly of a specific nature, for which the trivial gifts of any 
explorer would Ul repay them. 



TO THE LIMITS OF NAVIGATION 71 

tripped, and soon the Bradley's bow put out on the 
waters of Smith Sound for Annoatok. The night was 
cold and clear, brightened by the charm of color. The 
sun had just begun to dip under the northern horizon, 
which marks the end of the summer double days of 
splendor and begins the period of storms leading into 
the long night. Early in the morning we were off 
Annoatok. 

The launch and all the dories were lowered and 
filled. Eskimo boats were pressed into service and 
loaded. The boats were towed ashore. Only a few 
reached Annoatok itself, for the wind increased and a 
troublesome sea made haste a matter of great im- 
portance. Things were pitched ashore anywhere on 
the rocks where a landing could be found for the boats. 

The splendid efficiency of the launch proved equal 
to the emergency, and in the course of about thirteen 
hours all was safely put on shore in spite of dangerous 
winds and forbidding seas. That the goods were spread 
along the shore for a distance of several miles did not 
much matter, for the Eskimos willingly and promptly 
carried them to the required points. 

Now the time had come for the return of the 
schooner to the United States. Unsafe to remain 
longer at Annoatok at this advanced stage of the season, 
it was also imperative that it go right on with barely a 
halt at any other place. The departure meant a com- 
plete severance between the civilized world and myself. 
But I do not believe, looking back upon it, that the situ- 
ation seemed as awesome as might be supposed. Other 
explorers had been left alone in the Northland, and I 
had been through the experience before. 



72 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The party, so far as civilized men were concerned, 
was to be an unusually small one. That, however, was 
not from lack of volunteers, for when I had announced 
my determination many of the crew had volunteered to 
accompany me. Captain Bartlett himself wished to go 
along, but generously said that if it seemed necessary 
for him to go back with the schooner, he would need 
only a cook and engineer, leaving the other men 
with me. 

I wanted only one white companion, however, for 
I knew that no group of white men could possibly 
match the Eskimos in their own element. I had the 
willing help of all the natives, too, at my disposal. 
More than that was not required. I made an agree- 
ment with them for their assistance throughout the 
winter in getting ready, and then for as many as I 
wanted to start with me toward the uttermost North. 
For my white companion I selected Rudolph Francke, 
now one of the Arctic enthusiasts on the yacht. He 
had shipped for the experience of an Arctic trip. He 
was a cultivated young German with a good scientific 
schooling. He was strong, goodnatured, and his heart 
was in the prospective work. These were the qualities 
which made him a very useful man as my sole 
companion. 

Early on the morning of September 3, I bade fare- 
well to Mr. Bradley, and not long afterward the yacht 
moved slowly southward and faded gradually into the 
distant southern horizon. I was left alone with my des- 
tiny, seven hundred miles from the Pole. 



BEGINNING PREPARATIONS FOR THE 
POLAR DASH 

THE ARCTIC SOLITUDE — RETROSPECTION AND INTROSPEC- 
TION THE DETERMINATION TO ACHIEVE PLAN- 
NING OUT THE DETAILS OF THE CAMPAIGN AN 

ENTIRE TRIBE BUSILY AT WORK 



The Pole, the Route, and the Incentive 

When the yacht disappeared I felt a poignant 
pang at my heart. After it had faded, I stood gazing 
blankly at the sky, and I felt the lure of the old world. 
The yacht was going home — to the land of my family 
and friends. I was now alone, and, with the exception 
of Francke, there was no white man among this tribe 
of wild people with whom to converse during the long 
Arctic night that was approaching. I knew I should 
not be lonely, for there was a tremendous lot of work to 
do, although I had unstinted assistance. In every de- 
tail, the entire six months of labor including the catching 
of animals, the drying of meat, the making of such 
clothes and sledges as would be necessary, and the test- 
ing of them, would have to be managed by myself. 
Turning from the rocky highland where I stood, a wild 
thrill stirred my heart. The hour of my opportunity 



74 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

had come. After years of unavailing hopes and de- 
pressing defeats my final chance was presented! In 
the determination to succeed, every drop of blood in my 
body, every fibre of me responded. 

Why did I desire so ardently to reach the North 
Pole? What did I hope to gain? What, if successful, 
did I expect to reap as the result of my dreams? These 
questions since have been asked by many. I have 
searched the chambers of my memory and have tried to 
resolve replies to myself. The attaining of the North 
Pole meant at the time simply the accomplishing of a 
splendid, unprecedented feat — a feat of brain and 
muscle in which I should, if successful, signally sur- 
pass other men. In this I was not any more inordi- 
nately vain or seekful of glory than one who seeks pre- 
eminence in baseball, running tournaments, or any other 
form of athletics or sport. 

At the time, any applause which the world might 
give, should I succeed, did not concern me; I knew 
that this might come, but it did not enter into my 
speculations. 

For years I had felt the lure of the silver glamor 
of the North, and I can explain this no more than the 
reason why a poet is driven to express himself in verse, 
or why one child preternaturally develops amazing pro- 
ficiency in mathematics and another in music. Certain 
desires are born or unconsciously developed in us. I, 
with others before me, found my life ambition in the 
conquest of the Pole. To reach it would mean, I knew, 
an exultation which nothing else in life could give. 

This imaginary spot held for me the revealing of 
no great scientific secrets. I never regarded the feat 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE POLAR DASH 75 

as of any great scientific value. The real victory would 
lie, not in reaching the goal itself, but in overcoming 
the obstacles which exist in the way of it. In the battle 
with these I knew there would be excitement, danger, 
necessary expedients to tax the brain and heroic feats 
to tax the muscles, the ever constant incentive which 
the subduing of one difficulty after another excites. 

During the first day at Annoatok, after the yacht 
left, I thought of the world toward which it was going, 
of the continents to the south of me, of the cities with 
their teeming millions, and of the men with their mul- 
titudinous, conflicting ambitions. I could see, in my 
mind, the gigantic globe of my world swinging in cloud- 
swept emerald spaces, and far in the remote, vast, white 
regions in the north of it, far from the haunts of men, 
thousands of miles from its populous cities, beyond the 
raging of its blue-green seas, myself, alone, a wee, small 
atom on its vast surface, striving to reach its hitherto 
unattained goal. I felt, as I thought of my anticipa- 
tion and lonely quest, a sense of the terrible over- 
whelming hugeness of the earth, and the poignant 
loneliness any soul must feel when it embarks upon 
some splendid solitary destiny. 

Beyond and above me I visioned the unimaginable, 
blinding white regions of ice and cold, about which, like 
a golden-crowned sentinel, with face of flame, the 
circling midnight sun kept guard. Upon this desolate, 
awe-inspiring stage — unchanged since the days of its 
designing — I saw myself attempting to win in the most 
spectacular and difficult marathon for the testing of 
human strength, courage and perseverance, of body 
and brain, which God has offered to man. I could see 



76 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

myself, in my fancy pictures, invading those roaring 
regions, struggling over icy lands in the dismal twilight 
of the Arctic morning, and venturing, with a few com- 
panions, upon the lifeless, wind-swept Polar sea. A 
black mite, I saw myself slowly piercing those white 
and terrible spaces, braving terrific storms, assailing 
green, adamantine barriers of ice, crossing the swift- 
flowing, black rivers of those ice fields, and stoutly per- 
sisting until, successful, I stood alone, a victor, upon the 
world's pinnacle! 

This thought gave me wild joy. That I, one white 
man, might alone succeed in this quest gave me an im- 
petus which only single-handed effort and the prospect 
of single-handed success can give. There was pleasure 
in the thought that, in this effort, I was indebted to no 
one; no one had expended money for me or my trip; no 
white men were to risk their lives with me. Whether 
it resulted in success or defeat, I alone should exult or 
I alone should suffer. I was the mascot of no clique of 
friends, nor the pawn of scientists who might find a 
suppositious and mythical glory in the reflected light of 
another's achievement. The quest was personal; the 
pleasure of success must be personal. 

Yet, I want you to understand this thing was no 
casual jaunt with me. All my life hinged about it, my 
hopes were bent upon it; the doing of it was part of 
me. My plans of action were not haphazard and hair- 
brained. Logically and clearly, I mapped out a cam- 
paign. It was based upon experience in known con- 
ditions, experience gathered after years of discourage- 
ment and failure. 

At Annoatok we erected a house of packing 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE POLAR DASH 77 

boxes.* The building of the house, which was to be both 
storehouse and workshop, was a simple matter. The 
walls were made of the packing boxes, especially 
selected of uniform size for this purpose. 

Enclosing a space thirteen by sixteen feet, the 
cases were quickly piled up. The walls were held 
together by strips of wood, the joints sealed with 
pasted paper, with the addition of a few long boards. A 
really good roof was made by using the covers of the 
boxes as shingles. A blanket of turf over this con- 
fined the heat and permitted, at the same time, healthful 
circulation of air. 

We slept under our own roof at the end of the 
first day. Our new house had the great advantage 
of containing within it all our possessions within easy 

*One of the charges which Mr. Peary circulated before he returned 
North in 1908, was, that I violated a rule of Polar ethics by not applying 
for a license to seek the Pole, nor giving notice of my proposed trip. 
There is no such rule in Polar ethics. The following letter, however, to his 
press agent, Mr. Herbert Bridgman, dated Etah, August 26, 1907, answers 
the charge: 

"My dear Bridgman: I have hit upon a new route to the North Pole 
and will stay to try it. By way of Buchanan Bay and Ellesmere Land 
and northward through Nansen Strait over the Polar sea seems to me 
to be a very good route. There will be game to the 82°, and here are 
natives and dogs for the task. So here ic for the Pole. Mr. Bradley 
will tell you the rest. Kind regards to all — F. A. Cook." 

"It will be remembered," continued Mr. Bridgman, in his press reports, 
"that Dr. Cook, accompanied by John R. Bradley, Captain Moses Bartlett, 
and a number of Eskimos, left North Sidney, N. S., early last July on 
the American Auxiliary Schooner Yacht John JR. Bradley, which landed 
the party at Smith Sound. Mr. Bradley returned to North Sydney on the 
yacht on October 1. The expedition is provisioned for two years and fully 
equipped with dogs and sledges for the trip. The party fa wintering thirty 
miles further north than Peary did two years ago." 

And yet Bridgman, in line with the indefatigable pro-Peary 
boosters, later tried to lead the public to believe that I had nothing but 
gum drops with which to undertake a trip to the Pole. This same Bridg- 
man also printed in what Brooklyn people call the "Standard Liar" the 
fake about my using, as my own, photographs said to belong to the news- 
paper cub, Herbert Berri. 

For fifteen years Bridgman used my photographs and my material for 
his lectures on the Arctic and Antarctic, generally without giving credit. 
Evidently, my work and my results were good enough for him to borrow 



78 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

reach at all times. When anything was needed in the 
way of supplies, all we had to do was to open a box 
in the wall. 

The house completed, we immediately began the 
work of building sledges, and the equally important 
work, at which a large proportion of the Eskimos were 
at once set, of making up furs into clothing. Accord- 
ing to my plans, each one of us embarking in the Polar 
journey would have to carry two suits of fur clothing. 
In the Arctic regions, especially when men are march- 
ing to the limit of their strength every day, the bodily 
heat puts the clothing into such condition that the only 
safe way, if health is to be preserved, is to change suits 
frequently, while the perspiration-soaked furs are laid 
out to dry. 

The Eskimos had also to prepare for winter. 

as Peary did. So long as my usefulness served the Bridgman-Peary inter- 
ests, there was no question of my credibility, but when my success inter- 
fered with the monopoly of the fruits of Polar attainment, then I was to 
be striped with dark lines of dishonor. 

The most amusing and also the most significant incident of the Bridg- 
man-Peary humbug was the faked wireless message which Bridgman 
printed for Peary in his paper. Peary claims he reached the Pole on April 
6, 1909. In the Standard Union, Brooklyn, of April 14, 1909 (eight days 
after the alleged discovery), Peary's friend H. L. Bridgman, one of the 
owners, printed the following: 

"PEARY DUE NORTH POLE TWELVE M., THURSDAY" 
(APRIL IS, 1909). 

Is Mr. Bridgman a psychic medium? How, with Peary thousands of 
miles away, hundreds of miles from the most northerly wireless station, 
did he sense the amazing feat? Were he and Peary in telepathic communi- 
cation? Or, rather, does this not seem to point to an agreement entered 
into before the departure of Peary, about a year before the attempt was 
made, to announce on a certain day the "discovery" of the Pole? 

From other sources we learn that the timing of the arrival of the ship 
at Cape Sheridan seems to have been made good, but in an apparent effort 
on the part of Peary to keep faith with Bridgman on April IS, we find 
, him in trouble. If Peary arranged his "discovery" for this agreed date, he 
would have had to take nine days for his return trip from the Pole. This 
would increase his speed limit SO per cent., and since he is regarded with 
suspicion on his speed limits, to make his "Pole Discovery" story fit in 
between the known time when he left Bartlett and the time when he got 
back to the ship, he was compelled to break faith with Bridgman and went 
back nine days on his calendar, placing the date of Pole reaching at April 6. 





ON THE CHASE FOR BEAR 
THE BOX-HOUSE AT ANNOATOK AND ITS WINTER ENVIRONMENT 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE POLAR DASH 79 

Tents of sealskin are inhabitable only in the summer 
time. For the coming period of darkness and bitter 
cold, they made igloos of stone and snow. 

Meanwhile, they were not in the least averse to 
agreeable relaxation. I had with me a good supply of 
tea, and was in the habit of drinking a cup of it with 
Francke about four o'clock every afternoon. Observ- 
ing this, the Eskimos at once began to present them- 
selves at the tea hour. Fortunately, tea was one of the 
supplies of which I had brought a good deal for the 
sake of pleasing the natives, and it was not long before 
I had a very large and gossipy afternoon tea party 
every day, in this northernmost human settlement of 
the globe. 

I planned to superintend every detail of progress, 
as far as it concerned our journey. I could watch the 
men, too, and see which ones promised to be the best 
to accompany me. And, what was a most important 
point, I could also perfect my final plans for the ad- 
vance right at my final base. 

I aimed to reach the top of the globe in the angle 
between Alaska and Greenland, a promising route 
through a new and lonesome region which had not been 
tried, abandoning what has come to be called the 
"American Route." I should strike westward and then 
northward, working new trails. With Annoatok as a 
base of operations, I planned to carry sufficient supplies 
over Schley Land and along the west coast of the game 
lands, trusting that the game along this region would 
furnish sufficient supplies en route to the shores of the 
Polar sea. This journey to land's end would also afford 
a test of every article of equipment needed in the field 
work, and would enable us to choose finally from a 



80 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

selected number of Eskimos those most able to endure 
the rigors of the unlimited journey which lay before us. 
I sent out a few hunters along the intended line 
to seek for haunts of game, but I was not surprised that 
their searching in the dark was practically unsuccessful, 
and it merely meant that I must depend upon my previ- 
ous knowledge of conditions. I knew from the general 
reports of the natives, and from the explorations of 
Sverdrup, that the beginning of the intended route 
offered abundant game, and the indications were that 
further food would likewise be found as we advanced. 
The readiness with which the Eskimos declared them- 
selves ready to trust to the food supply of the unknown 
region was highly encouraging. 

To start from my base with men and dogs in superb 
condition, with their bodies nourished with wholesome 
fresh meat instead of the nauseating laboratory stuff 
too often given to men in the North, was of vital im- 
portance; and if the men and dogs could afterwards 
be supported in great measure by the game of the 
region through which we were to pass, it would be of 
an importance more vital still. If my information was 
well founded and my general conjectures correct, I 
should have advantages which had not been possessed 
by any other leader of a Polar expedition. The new 
route seemed to promise, also, immunity from the 
highly disturbing effects of certain North Greenland 
currents. In all, the chances seemed not unfavorable. 
With busy people hard at work about me, I knew 
that the months of the long night would pass rapidly 
by. There was much to do, and with the earliest dawn 
of the morning of the next year we must be ready to 
start for the Pole. 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 

TRIBE OF TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY NATIVES BUSILY 
BEGIN PREPARATIONS FOR THE POLAR DASH — EXCIT- 
ING HUNTS FOR THE UNICORN AND OTHER GAME 

FROM ANNOATOK TO CAPE YORK EVERY ANIMAL 

CAUGHT BEARING UPON THE SUCCESS OF THE 

VENTURE THE GRAY-GREEN GLOOM OF TWILIGHT 

IN WHICH THE ESKIMO WOMEN COMMUNICATE 
WITH THE SOULS OF THE DEAD 

VI 

The Sunset of 1907 

Winter, long-lasting, dark and dismal, approached. 
To me it was to be a season of feverish labor in which 
every hand at work and every hour employed counted 
in the problem of success. While the hands of the entire 
tribe would be busy, and while I should direct and help 
in the making of sleds, catching of game, preparing of 
meat, I knew that my mind would find continual excite- 
ment in dreams of my quest, in anticipating and solving 
its difficulties, in feeling the bounding pulse of the dash 
over the ice of the Polar sea, with dogs joyously bark- 
ing, whips cracking the air, and the reappearing sun 
paving our pathway with liquid gold. In the labor of 
the long winter which I began to map out I knew I 
should find ceaseless zest, for the pursuit of every 
narwhal, every walrus, every fox I should regard with 



82 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

abated suspense, each one bearing upon my chances; in 
the employment of every pair of hands I should hang 
with an eager interest, the expediency and excellence of 
the work making for success or failure. From this time 
onward everything of my lif e, every native, every occur- 
rence began to have some bearing upon the dominating 
task to which I had set myself. 

With the advance of winter, storms of frightful 
ferocity began to arise. Inasmuch as we had stored 
meat and blubber in large quantities about our camp, it 
was not necessary at these times to venture out to dig 
up supplies from great depths of snow drift. During 
these periods hands were employed busily inside the 
igloos. Although a large quantity of animals and furs 
had been gathered by the hunters before our arrival, we 
now unexpectedly discovered that the supply was in- 
adequate. According to my plans, a large party of 
picked natives would accompany me to land's end and 
somewhat beyond on the Polar sea when I started for 
my dash in the coming spring. As spring is the best 
hunting season, it was therefore imperative to secure 
sufficient advance provisions for the families of these 
men in addition to preparing requisites for my expedi- 
tion. So the early days of the winter would have to be 
busily occupied by the men in a ceaseless hunt for game, 
and later, even when the darkness had fully fallen, the 
moonlight days and nights would thus have to be 
utilized also. 

In the Polar cycle of the seasons there are peculiar 
conditions which apply to circumstances and movements. 
As the word, seasons, is ordinarily understood, there are 
but two, a winter season and a summer season — a winter 
season of nine months and a summer of three months. 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 83 

But, for more convenient division of the yearly- 
periods, it is best to retain the usual cycle of four sea- 
sons. Eskimos call the winter "ookiah," which also 
means year, and the summer "onsah." Days are "sleeps." 
The months are moons, and the periods are named in ac- 
cord with the movements of various creatures of the 
chase. 

In early September at Annoatok the sun dips con- 
siderably under the northern horizon. There is no 
night. At sunset and at sunrise storm clouds hide the 
bursts of color which are the glory of twilight,, and the 
electric afterglow is generally lost in a dull gray. 

The gloom of the coming winter night now thick- 
ens. The splendor of the summer day has gone. A day 
of six months and a night of six months is often ascribed 
to the Polar regions as a whole, but this is only true of a 
very small area about the Pole. 

As we come south, the sun slips under the horizon 
for an ever-increasing part of each twenty-four hours. 
Preceding and following the night, as we come from the 
Pole, there is a period of day and night which lengthens 
with the descent of latitude. 

It is this period which enables us to retain the names 
of the usual seasons — summer for the double days, fall 
for the period of the setting sun. This season begins 
when the sun first dips under the ice at midnight for a 
few moments. These moments increase rapidly, yet 
one hardly appreciates that the sun is departing until 
day and night are of equal length, for the night remains 
light, though not cheerful. Then the day rapidly short- 
ens and darkens, and the sun sinks until at last there is 
but a mere glimmer of the glory of day. Winter is lim- 



84 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ited to the long night, and spring applies to the days of 
the rising sun, a period corresponding to the autumn 
days of the setting sun. 

At Annoatok the midnight sun is first seen on 
April 23. It dips in the sea on August 19. It thus en- 
circles the horizon, giving summer and continuous day 
for one hundred and eighteen days. It sets at mid- 
day on October 24, and is absent a period of pro- 
longed night corresponding to the day, and it 
rises on February 19. The Arctic air, with its low 
temperature and its charge of frosted humidity, so 
distorts the sun's rays that when low it is frequently 
lifted one or two diameters; therefore, the exact day or 
hour for sunrise or sunset does not correspond to mathe- 
matical calculations. Then follow days of spring. 

In the fall, when the harmonizing influence of the 
sun is withdrawn, there begins a battle of the elements 
which continues until stilled by the hopeless frost of 
early night. 

At this time, although field work was painful, the 
needs of our venture forced us to persistent action in 
the chase of walrus, seal, narwhal and white whale. We 
thus harvested food and fuel. 

Before winter ice spread over the sea, ptarmigan, 
hare and reindeer were sought on land to supply the 
table during the long night with delicacies, while bear 
and fox pleased the palates of the Eskimos, and their 
pelts clothed all. 

Many long journeys were undertaken to secure 
an important supply of grass to pad boots and 
mittens and also to secure moss, which serves as wick for 
the Eskimo lamp. During the months of September 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 85 

and October, along the entire Greenland coast, the Es- 
kimos were engaged in a feverish quest for reserve sup- 
plies. Shortly after my arrival, word had been carried 
from village to village that I was at Annoatok, and, in- 
tending to make a dash for the "Big Nail," desired the 
help of the entire tribe. Intense and spontaneous 
activity followed. Knowing the demands of the North, 
and of such work as I planned, the natives, without spe- 
cific instructions from me and with only a brief outline 
of the planned Polar campaign which was sent from 
village to village, immediately got busy gathering the 
needed things. They knew better than I where to go 
for certain game, and where certain desirable things were 
obtainable. This relieved me of a great responsibility. 
Each local group of natives was to perform some impor- 
tant duty, suited to its available resources, in gathering 
the tremendous amount of material required for our 
trip. Each village had its peculiar game advantages. 

In some places foxes and hares, the skins of which 
were necessary for coats and stockings, were abundant, 
and the Eskimos must not only gather the greatest 
number possible, but prepare the skins and make them 
into properly fitting garments. In other places reindeer 
were plentiful. The skin of these was needed for sleep- 
ing bags, while the sinew was required for thread. In 
still other places seal was the luck of the chase ; its skin 
was one of our most important needs. Of it boots were 
made, and an immense amount of fine and lashings 
prepared. 

Thus, in one way or another, every man and woman 
and most of the children of this tribe of two hundred and 
fifty people were kept busy in the service of the expe- 



86 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

dition. The work was well done, and with much better 
knowledge of the fitness of things than could have been 
possessed by any possible gathering of alien white men. 

The quest of the walrus and the narwhal came in 
our own immediate plan of adventure, although the nar- 
whal, called by whale fishers the unicorn, does not often 
come under the eye of the white man. It afforded for 
a brief spell good results in sport and useful material. 
Its blubber is the pride of every housekeeper, for it gives 
a long, hot flame to the lamp, with no smoke to spot the 
igloo finery. The skin is regarded as quite a delicacy. 
Cut into squares, it looks and tastes like scallops, with 
only a slight aroma of train oil. The meat dries easily, 
and is thus prized as an appetizer or as a lunch to be 
eaten en route in sled or kayak. In this shape it was an 
extremely useful thing for us, for it took the place of 
pemmican on our less urgent journeys. 

Narwhals played in schools, far off shore, and 
usually along the edges of some large ice field, their long 
ivory tusks rising under spouts of breath and spray. 
Whenever this glad sight was noted, every kayak about 
camp was manned, and the skin canoes went flittering 
like birds over the water. Some of the Eskimos climbed 
to the ice fields and delivered their harpoons from a 
secure footing. Others hid behind floating fragments 
of heavy ice and made a sudden rush as the animals 
passed. Still others came up in the rear, for the nar- 
whal cannot easily see backward, and does not often turn 
to watch its enemies, its speed being so fast that it can 
easily keep ahead of them. 

In these exciting hunts I participated with eager 
delight, and by proxy mentally engaged in every en- 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 87 

counter. For, in this sea game, existed food supplies 
which, instead of entirely confining myself to pemmican, 
I planned also to use on my Polar journey. As the skin 
boats, like bugs, sped over the water, I felt the move- 
ment of them surge in my brain; with the upraising of 
each swift-darting native's arm I felt, as it were, my 
heart stop with bated suspense. With every failure I 
experienced a throb of dismay. With the hauling in of 
each slimy beast I felt, as it were, nearer my goal. 

Narwhal hunting, in itself, and without the added 
spur of personal interest, which I had, is brimful of 
thrilling sport. The harpoon is always delivered at 
close range. Whenever the dragging float marks the 
end of the line in tow of the frightened creature, the line 
of skin canoes follows. Timid by nature and fearing to 
rise for breath, the narwhal plunges along until nearly 
strangled. When he does come up, there are likely to 
be several Eskimos near with drawn lances, which in- 
flict deep gashes. 

Again the narwhal plunges deep down, with but 
one breath, and hurries along as best it can. But its 
speed slackens and a line of crimson marks its hidden 
path. Loss of blood and want of air do not give it a 
chance to fight. Again it comes up with a spout. 
Again the lances are hurled. 

The battle continues for several hours, with many 
exciting adventures, but in the end the narwhal always 
succumbs, offering a prize of several thousands of 
pounds of meat and blubber. Victory as a rule is not 
gained until the hunters are far from home, and also far 
from the shore line. But the Eskimo is a courageous 
hunter and an intelligent seaman. 



88 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

To the huge carcass frail kayaks are hitched in a 
long line. Towing is slow, wind and sea combining to 
make the task difficult and dangerous. One sees noth- 
ing of the narwhal and very little of the kayak, for dash- 
ing seas wash over the little craft, but the double-bladed 
paddles see-saw with the regularity of a pendulum. 
Homecoming takes many hours and demands a pro- 
digious amount of hard work, but there is energy to 
spare, for a wealth of meat and fat is the culmination of 
all Eskimo ambition. 

Seven of these ponderous animals were brought in 
during five days, making a heap of more than forty 
thousand pounds of food and fuel. The sight of this 
tremulous, blubbering mass filled my heart with joy. 
Our success was not too soon, for now the narwhals sud- 
denly disappeared, and we saw no more of them. About 
this time three white whales were also obtained at Etah 
by a similar method of hunting. 

With the advent of actual winter, storms swept 
over the land and sea with such fury that it was no longer 
safe to venture out on the water in kayaks. After the 
catching of several walruses from boats, sea hunting 
now was confined to the quest of seal through young ice. 
As such hunting would soon be limited to only a few 
open spaces near prominent headlands, an industrious 
pursuit was feverishly engaged in at every village from 
Annoatok to Cape York, and hour by hour, day by day, 
until the hunt of necessity changed from sea to land, the 
husky natives engaged in seal catching. As yet we had 
no caribou meat, and the little auks, which had been 
gathered in nets during the summer, with the eider-duck 
bagged later, soon disappeared as a steady diet. We 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 89 

must now procure such available land game as hare, 
ptarmigan and reindeer, for we had not yet learned to 
eat with a relish the fishy, liver-like substance which is 
characteristic of all marine mammals. 

Guns and ammunition were now distributed, and 
when the winds were easy enough to allow one to ven- 
ture out, every Eskimo sought the neighboring hills. 
Francke also took his exercise with a gun on his shoulder. 

The combined efforts resulted in a long line of 
ptarmigan, two reindeer and sixteen hares. As snow 
covered the upper slopes, the game was forced down 
near the sea, where we could still hope to hunt in the 
feeble light of the early part of the night. 

With a larder fairly stocked and good prospects 
for other tasty meats, we were spared the anxiety of a 
winter without supplies. Francke was an ideal chef in 
the preparation of this game to good effect, for he had a 
delightful way of making our primitive provisions quite 
appetizing. 

In the middle of October fox skins were prime, and 
then new steel traps were distributed and set near the 
many caches. By this time all the Eskimos had aban- 
doned their sealskin tents and were snugly settled in 
their winter igloos. The ground was covered with 
snow, and the sea was almost entirely frozen. 

Everybody was busy preparing for the coming cold 
and night. The temperature was about 20° below zero. 
Severe storms were becoming less frequent, and the air, 
though colder, was less humid and less disagreeable. An 
ice-foot was formed by the tides along shore, and over 
this the winter sledging was begun by short excursions 
to bait the fox traps and gather the foxes. 



90 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Our life now resolved itself into a systematic 
routine of work, which was practically followed through- 
out the succeeding long winter night. About the box- 
house in which Francke and I lived were igloos housing 
eight to twelve families. The tribe of two hundred and 
fifty was distributed in a range of villages along the 
coast, an average of four families constituting a com- 
munity. Early each morning Koo-loo-ting-wah would 
bang at my door, enter, and I would drowsily awaken 
while he freshened the fire. Rising, we would prepare 
hot coffee and partake of breakfast with biscuits. By 
seven o'clock — according to our standard of time — five 
or six of the natives would arrive, and, after a liberal 
libation of coffee, begin work. I taught them to help 
me in the making of my hickory sleds. Some I taught 
to use modern carpentering instruments, which I had 
with me. Another group was schooled in bending the 
resilient but tough hickory. This was done by wrapping 
old cloths about the wood and steeping it in hot water. 
Others engaged, as the days went by, in making dog 
harness, articles of winter clothing, and drying meat. 
Not an hour was lost during the day. At noon we 
paused for a bite of frozen meat and hot tea. Then we 
fell to work again without respite until five or six o'clock. 

Meanwhile, beginning in the early morning of our 
steadily darkening days, other male members of the tribe 
pursued game. Others again followed a routine of 
scouring of the villages and collecting all the furs and 
game which had been caught. The women of the tribe, 
in almost every dimly lighted igloo, were no less indus- 
trious. To them fell the task of assisting in drying the 
fur skins, preparing dried meat and making our cloth- 




THE HELPERS NORTHERNMOST MAN AND HIS WIFE 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 91 

ing. Throughout the entire days they sat in their snow 
and stone houses, masses of ill-smelling furs before them, 
cutting the skins and sewing them into serviceable gar- 
ments. This work I often watched, passing from igloo 
to igloo, with an interest that verged on anxiety; for 
upon the strength, thickness and durability of these de- 
pended my life, and that of the companions I should 
choose, on the frigid days which would inevitably come 
on my journey Poleward. But these broad-faced, 
patient women did their work well. Their skill is quite 
remarkable. They took my measurements, for instance, 
by roughly sizing up my old garments and by measuring 
me by sight. Garments were made to fit snugly after 
the preliminary making by cutting out or inserting 
patches of fur. Needles among the natives are indeed 
precious. So valuable are they that if a point or eye is 
broken, with infinite skill and patience the broken end 
is heated and flattened, and by means of a bow drill a 
new eye is bored. A new point is with equal skill shaped 
on local stones. With marvelous patience they make 
their own thread by drying and stripping caribou or 
narwhale sinews. 

Were it not for their extraordinary eyesight, such 
work, under such conditions, would be impossible. But 
in the dark the natives can espy things invisible to white 
men. This owl-sight enables them to hunt, if necessary, 
in almost pitch darkness, and to perform tedious feats 
of hand skill which, in such dim light, an alien would 
bungle. I noticed, with much curiosity, that when the 
natives inspected any photograph or object which I gave 
them they always held it upside down. All objects, as 
is well known, are reflected in the retina thus, and it is 



92 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

our familiarity with the size and comparative relations 
of things which enables the brain to visualize an object 
or scene at its proper angle. This strange, instinctive 
act of the natives might form an interesting chapter in 
optics. 

Meanwhile, busy and interested in the beginning of 
our various pursuits, the great crust which was to hold 
down the sea for so many months, closed and thickened. 

During the last days of brief sunshine the weather 
cleared, and at noon on October 24 everybody sought 
the open for a last glimpse of the dying day. There 
was a charm of color and glitter, but no one seemed quite 
happy as the sun sank under the southern ice, for it was 
not to rise again for one hundred and eighteen days. 

Just prior to the falling of darkness, with that in- 
stinctive and forced hilarity with which aboriginal beings 
seek to ward off an impending calamity, the Eskimos 
engaged in their annual sporting event. It is a curious 
sight, indeed, to behold a number of excited, laughing 
Eskimos gathering about two champion dogs which are 
to fight. Although the zest of betting is unknown, the 
natives regard dog fights with much the same eager ex- 
citement as a certain type of sporting man does a cock 
encounter. Sometimes the dogs do not fight fairly, a 
number of the animals bunching together and attacking 
a single dog. Dogs selected for the fight are, of course, 
the best of the teams. A dog which maintains his fight- 
ing supremacy becomes a king dog, and when beaten 
becomes a first lieutenant to the king. 

After the forced enthusiasm of this brief period of 
excitement, the Eskimos begin to succumb to the inevita- 
ble melancholia of nature, when the sun, the source of 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 93 

natural life, disappears and darkness descends. A 
gloom descends heavily upon their spirits. A subtle 
sadness tinctures their life, and they are possessed by an 
impulse to weep. At this season, hour by hour, the 
darkness thickens; the cold increases and chills their 
igloos; the wind, exultant while the sun shines, now 
whines and sobs dolorously — there is something grue- 
some, uncanny, supernatural, in its siren sorrow. Out- 
side, the snow falls, the sea closes. Its clamant beat of 
waves is silenced. Sea animals mostly disappear; land 
animals are rare. Their source of physical supply van- 
ished, the Eskimos unconsciously feel the grim hand of 
want, of starvation, which means death, upon them. The 
psychology of this period of depression partly lies, un- 
doubtedly, in this instinctive dread of death from lack of 
food and the natural depression of unrelieved gloom. 
Moreover, there is a grief, born of the native supersti- 
tion that, when the sea freezes, the souls of all who have 
perished in the waters are imprisoned during the long 
night. Too fierce is the struggle of these people with 
the elemental forces to permit them, like many other 
aboriginal peoples to be obsessed greatly with supersti- 
tions. Although their religion is a very primitive and 
native one, it is usually only at the inception of night 
that they feel the appalling nearness of a world 
that is supernatural. As the last rim of the sun 
sank over the southern ice, the natives entered upon a 
formal period of melancholy, during which the bereave- 
ments of each family, and the discomforts and disasters 
of the year, were memoralized. 

I shall never forget that long, sad evening, which 
lasted many normal days. The sun had descended. A 



94 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sepulchral, gray-green curtain of gloom hung over the 
chilled earth. In the dim semi-darkness could be 
vaguely seen the outlines of the igloos, of the heaving 
curvatures of snow-covered land, and the blacker, snake- 
like twistings of open lanes of water, where the sea had 
not yet frozen. Sitting in my box-house, I was startled 
suddenly by a sound that made my flesh for the instant 
creep. I walked to the door and threw it open. Over 
the bluish, snow-covered land, formed by the indentures 
and hollows, stretched dark-purplish shapes — Titan 
shadows, sepulchral and ominous, some with shrouded 
heads, others with spectral arms threateningly upraised. 
Nebulous and gruesome shreds of bluerfog like wraiths 
shifted over the sea. Out of the sombre, heavy air be- 
gan to issue a sound as of many women sobbing. From 
the indistinct distance came moaning, crooning voices. 
Sometimes hysterical wails of anguish rent the air, and 
now and then frantic choruses shrieked some heart- 
aching despair. My impression was that I was in a 
land of the sorrowful dead, some mid-strata of the spirit 
world, where, in this gray-green twilight, formless 
things in the distance moved to and fro. 

There is, I believe, in the heart of every man, an 
instinctive respect for sorrow. With muffled steps, I 
left the igloo and paced the dreariness of ice, treading 
slowly, lest, in the darkness, I slip into some unseen 
crevasse of the open sea. A strange and eerie sight con- 
fronted me. Along the seashore, bending over the lap- 
ping black water, or standing here and there by inky, 
open leads in the severed ice, many Eskimo women were 
gathered. Some stood in groups of two or three. 
Bowed and disconsolate, her arms about them, with 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 95 

almost every hundred steps, I saw a weeping mother and 
her children. Standing rigid and stark, motionless 
graven images of despair, or frantically writhing to and 
fro, others stood far apart in desolate places, alone. 

The dull, opaque air was tinged with a strange phos- 
phorescent green, suggestive of a place of dead things; 
and now, like the flutterings of huge death-lamps, along 
the horizon, where the sun had sunk, gashes of crimson 
here and there fitfully glowed blood-red in the pall-like 
sky. 

To the left, as I walked along, I recognized Tung- 
wingwah, with a child on her back and a bag of moss in 
her hand. She stood behind a cheerless rock, with her 
face toward the faint red flushes of the sun. She stood 
motionless. Big tears rolled from her eyes, but not a 
sound was uttered. To my low queries she made no 
response. I invited her to the camp to have a cup of 
tea, thinking to change her sad thoughts and loosen her 
tongue. But still her eyes did not leave that last distant 
line of open water. From another, I later learned that 
in the previous April her daughter of five, while playing 
on the ice-foot, slipped and was lost in the sea. The 
mother now mourned because the ice would bury her 
little one's soul. 

A little farther along was Al-leek-ah, a woman of 
middle age, with two young children by her side. She 
was hysterical in her grief, now laughing with a weird 
giggle, now crying and groaning as if in great pain, and 
again dancing with emotions of madness. I learned her 
story from a chatter that ran through all her anguish. 
Towanah, her first husband, had been drawn under the 
ice, by the harpoon line, twenty years ago. And though 



96 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

she had been married three times since, she was trying 
to keep alive the memory of her first love. I went on, 
marveling at a primitive fidelity so long enduring. 

Still farther along towards the steep slopes of the 
main coast, I saw Ahwynet, all alone in the gloomy 
shadow of great cliffs. Her story was told in chants 
and moans. Her husband and all her children had been 
swept by an avalanche into the stormy seas. There was 
a kind of wild poetry in the song of her bereavement. 
Tears came to my eyes. The rush of the avalanche, the 
hiss of the wind, the pounding of the seas, were all indi- 
cated. And then, in heart-breaking tones, came "blood 
of her blood, flesh of her flesh, under the frozen waters," 
and other sentiments which I could not catch in the 
undertone of sobs. 

Cold shivers began to run up my spine, and I 
turned to retreat to camp. Here was a scene that per- 
haps a Dante might adequately write about. I cannot. 
I felt that I, an alien, was intruding into the realm of 
some strange and mystic sorrow. I felt the sombre thrill 
of a borderland world not human. These women were 
communicating with the souls of their dead. To those 
who had perished in the sea they were telling, ere the 
gates of ice closed above them, all the news of the past 
year — things of interest and personal, and even of years 
before, as far back as they could remember. Almost 
every family each year loses someone in the sea; 
almost every family was represented by these weeping 
women, overburdened with their own naive sorrow, and 
who yet strangely sought to cheer the souls of the dis- 
consolate and desolate dead. 

Meanwhile, while the women were weeping and giv- 



THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS 97 

ing fheir parting messages to the dead, the male mem- 
bers of the tribe, in chants and dramatic dances, were 
celebrating, in the igloos, the important events of the 
past year. 

Inside, the igloos were dimly lighted with stone 
blubber lamps. These, during the entire winter, furnish 
light and heat. The lamp consists of a crescent-shaped 
stone with a concavity, in which there is animal oil and a 
line of crushed moss as a wick. Lighted early in the sea- 
son, for an entire winter, these lamps cast a faint, per- 
petual, flickering light. Shadows dance grotesquely 
about on the rounded walls. An oily stench pervades the 
unventilated enclosure. In this weird, yellow-blackish 
radiance the men engage in their fantastic dances. Mov- 
ing the central parts of their bodies to and fro, they utter 
weird sing-song chants. They recite, in jerky, curious 
singing, the history of the big events of the year ; of suc- 
cessful chases; of notable storms; of everything that 
means much in their simple lives. As they dance, their 
voices rise to a high pitch of excitement. Their eyes 
flash like smoldering coals. Their arms move frantic- 
ally. Some begin to sob uncontrollably. A hysteria of 
laughter seizes others. Finally the dance ends; ex- 
hausted, they pass into a brief lethargy, from which they 
revive, their melancholia departed. The women return 
from the shores of the sea; they wipe their tears, and, 
with native spontaneity, forget their depression and 
smile again. 

While I was interested in the curious spectacles pre- 
sented, the sunset of 1907 to me was inspiration for the 
final work in directing the completion of the outfit with 
which to begin the conquest of the Pole at sunrise of 



98 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

1908. Fortunately, I was not handicapped by the com- 
pany of the usual novices taken on Polar expeditions. 
There were only two of us white men, and white men, at 
the best, must be regarded as amateurs compared with 
the expert efficiency of Eskimos in their own environ- 
ment. Our food supply contained only the prime fac- 
tors of primitive nourishment. Special foods and lab- 
oratory concoctions and canned delicacies did not fill an 
important space in our larder. Nor had we balloons, 
automobiles, motor sleds or other freak devices. We 
did, however, I have said, have what was of utmost im- 
portance, an abundance of the best hickory and metal 
for the making of the sleds upon which our destinies 
were vitally to depend. 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 

HUNTING IN THE ARCTIC TWILIGHT— PURSUING BEAR, 
CARIBOU AND SMALLER GAME IN SEMI-GLOOM 

VII 

The Glory of the Aurora 

The sun had dropped below the horizon. The 
gloom continued steadily to thicken. Each twenty- 
four hours, at the approximate approach of what was 
the noon hour when the sun had been above the horizon, 
the sky to the south of us glowed with marvelous, sub- 
dued sunset hues. By this time our work had gone 
ahead by progressive stages. Furs, to protect us from 
the cold of the uttermost North on my prospective trip, 
had been prepared and were being made into clothing; 
meat and fat, for food and fuel, were being dried and 
stored in numerous caches about Annoatok; several of 
the sledges and part of the equipment were ready. 

We still had need of large quantities of supplies, 
and, while some of the natives were busy with their 
routine work, we planned that as many others as pos- 
sible should use the twilight days pursuing bear, cari- 
bou, fox, hare and other game far beyond the usual 
Eskimo haunts. Before the dawn of the sun's after- 
glow, on the morning of October 26, seven sledges with 



100 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sixty dogs were on the ice-foot near our camp, ready to 
start for hunting grounds near Humboldt Glacier, a 
distance of one hundred miles northward.* 

While the teamsters waited for the final password 
the dogs chafed fiercely. I could barely see the outlines 
of my companions in the gloom, and it was difficult, in 
the irregular snow and tide-lifted ice descending to sea 
level, to find footing. 

The word to start was given. My companions took 
up the cry. 

"Huh! Huh! Huh!" (Go! Go!) they shouted. 

The dogs responded in leaps and howls. 

"Howah! Howah!" (Right! Right!) "Egh! 
Egh!" (Stop! Stop!) "Aureti!" (Behave!) cameecho- 
ingly along the line of teams. Finally the wild dash 
slackened, the dogs regulated their paces to an easy trot, 
and we swept steadily along the frozen highway of the 
tide-made shelf of the ice-foot. The sledges dodged 
stones and ice-blocks, edged along dangerous precipices, 
in the depths of which I heard the swish of water, and 
glided miraculously over crevices and along deep gorges. 
Jumping about the sledges, guiding, pushing, or retard- 
ing their speed, cracking their whips in the air, the 
natives, with that art which only aborigines seem to 
have, picked the way and controlled the dogs, but a few 
generations removed from their wolf progenitors, with 
amazing dexterity. 

A low wind blew down the slopes and froze our 



*Game List. — The following animals were captured from August 15, 
1907, to May IS, 1909: 

Two thousand four hundred and twenty-two birds, 311 Arctic hares, 
320 blue and white foxes, 32 Greenland reindeer, 4 white reindeer, 22 polar 
bears, 52 seals, 73 walrus, 21 narwhals, 3 white whales, and 206 musk oxen. 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 101 

breath in lines of frost about our heads. The tempera- 
ture was 35° below zero. To the left of us was Kane 
Basin, recalling its history of human strife northward. 
It was filled with serried ranges of crushed ice, a berg 
here and there, all in the light of the kindling sky, aglow 
with purple and blue. To the far west I saw the 
dim outline of Ellesmere, my promised land, over which 
I hoped to force a new route to the Pole ; upon its snowy 
highlands was poured a soft creamy light from encour- 
aging skies. To the right was the rugged coast of Green- 
land, its huge, ice-chiselled cliffs leaping portentously 
forward in the gloom. Thrilling with the race, we made 
a run of twenty miles and reached Rensselaer Harbor, 
where Dr. Kane had spent his long nights of misfortune. 
We pitched camp at the ice-foot at the head of the 
bay. Although we found traces of hare and fox, it was 
too dark to venture on the chase. The temperature had 
fallen to — 40°, the wind pierced with a sharp sting. For 
my shelter I erected a new tent which I had invented, 
and the efficiency of which I desired to test. Taking the 
sledge frame work as a platform, a folding top of strong 
canvas was fastened, and spread between two bars of 
hickory from each end. The entrance was in front. 
Inside was a space eight feet long and three and one- 
half feet wide, with a round whaleback top. Inside this 
a supplementary wall was constructed of light blankets, 
offering an air space of an inch between the outer wall 
as a non-conductor to confine the little heat generated 
within. As there was ample room for only two persons, 
Koo-loo-ting-wah, my leading man, was invited to share 
the tent. The natives had not provided themselves with 
shelter of any kind. They had counted on either build- 



102 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ing an igloo or seeking the shelter of the snows, as do the 
creatures of the wilds. 

Inside my tent I prepared a meal on the little 
German stove, burning the vapor of alcohol. The meal 
consisted of a pail of hot corn meal, fried bacon and a 
liberal all-round supply of steaming tea. To accomplish 
this, which included melting the snow, heating the water, 
and cooking everything separately, required about two 
hours. As I considered eating outside with any degree 
of comfort impossible, my companions were invited to 
crowd inside the tent. The vapor of their breath and 
that of the cooking soon condensed into snow, and a 
miniature snowstorm covered everything within. After 
this was swept out, the Eskimos were invited to enter 
again. All partook of the meal ravenously, and then 
emerged to reconnoiter the surroundings. Tracks of 
ptarmigan, hare and foxes were found, and as we moved 
about with seeking, owl eyes, ravens shouted notes of 
welcome. 

We then retired to rest. As there was no snow 
about that was sufficiently hard to cut blocks with which 
to erect snow houses, the natives placed themselves in 
semi-reclining positions on their sledges and slept in their 
traveling clothes. After a few hours they awoke and 
partook of chopped frozen meat and blubber; two hours 
later, they made a fire in a tin can, with moss and blubber 
as fuel, and over this prepared a pot of parboiled meat. 
A crescent-shaped wall of snow was built to break the 
wind ; in the shelter of this they sat, grinning delightedly, 
and eating savagely, with much smacking of the lips, the 
steaming broth and walrus meat. All this I Studied with 
intense interest. I desired on this trip not only to test 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 103 

my tent, but to learn more of the native arts of the 
Eskimo, knowing that I, on my Polar trip, must, if I 
would be successful, adapt myself to just such methods 
of living. 

This was my first winter experience of camping out 
in the night season for this year, and, with only a diet of 
meal and bacon, I was miserably cold. I was now test- 
ing also for the first time the new winter clothing with 
which I and all my companions were dressed. Our 
shirts were made of bird skins. Over these were coats 
of blue fox or caribou skins; our trousers were of bear, 
our boots of seal, and our stockings of hare skins. This 
was the usual native winter costume, but under it I had 
added a suit of underwear. 

Retiring again for rest, I left instructions to be 
called for an early start. It seemed that I had hardly 
settled comfortably in my sleeping bag when the call for 
action came. 

We hastily partook of tea and biscuits, harnessed 
our teams and started through the dark. The Eskimos, 
having eaten their fill of fat and frozen meat, to which I 
must yet accustom myself, were thoroughly comfortable. 
I was miserably cold. 

By running behind my sledge I produced sufficient 
bodily heat after awhile to feel comfortable. My face 
suffered severely from the cutting slant of the winds. 
We passed the perpendicular walls of Cape Seiper at 
dawn. We ran along the long, straight coast into Ban- 
croft Bay during the six hours of twilight. The journey 
was continued to Dallas Bay by a forced march of fifty 
miles before we halted. 

The scene displayed the rare glory of twilight 



104 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

charms as it had the day before, but the snow was 
deeper, the temperature lower. The wind steadily in- 
creased and veered northward. We made several efforts 
to cross the bay ice, but cracked ice, huge uplifted blocks 
and deep snows compelled a retreat to the ice-foot. 

The ice-foot along Smith Sound is a superb high- 
way, where otherwise sledge travel would be quite im- 
possible along the coast. 

Along Dallas Bay we found a great deal of grass- 
covered land in undulating valleys and on low hills, 
which offered grazing for caribou and hare. The pre- 
ceding glimmer of the new moon, which was to rise a 
few days hence, offered sufficient light to search for 
game. 

We now fed our dogs for the first time since leaving 
Annoatok. After a liberal drink of snow water, we 
started to seek our luck in the chase. In the course of 
an hour my companions returned with four hares which, 
when dressed, weighed about forty-eight pounds. Two 
of these were cached. The others were eaten later. 

Before dawn of the day-long twilight the wind 
increased to a full gale. The sky to the north, smoky 
all night, now blackened as with soot. The wind came 
with a howl that brought to mind the despairing cries of 
the dying explorers whose bleached bones were strewn 
along the shore. The gloomy outline of the coast re- 
mained visible for awhile; but soon the air thickened 
and came weighted with snow that piled up in huge 
drifts. 

The Eskimos took a few of their favorite dogs and 
sought shelter to the lee of the tent, where drift covered 
their blankets with snow. Breathing holes were kept 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 105 

open over their faces. Buried in snow drifts, they were 
imprisoned for twenty-eight hours. But this tent sled 
sheltered Koo-loo-ting-wah and myself. When the rush 
of the storm had abated we began digging our way out. 
In this effort we dug up men and dogs like potatoes 
from a patch. The northern sky had paled, the south 
was brightening. The pack was lined with long lines 
beyond each hummock; the snow was covered with a 
strong crust. But the ice-foot was a hopeless line of 
drifts which made travel over it quite impossible. 

The work of pounding snow from the dogs and 
freeing the sledges brought to our faces beads of perspi- 
ration which rolled off and froze in lines of ice on our 
furs. We were none the worse as a result of the storm, 
and although hungry as wolves, time was too precious to 
stop for a full meal. 

We now pushed out of the bay, on to the sea ice. 
At this point the dogs scented a bear and soon crossed 
its track. Rested and hungry, they were in condition 
for a desperate chase. Their sharp noses pointed keenly 
into the huge bear foot-prints, their little ears quivered, 
while, with howls, they started onward in a mad rush. 

Neither our voices nor the whips made an impres- 
sion on their wild speed. We crossed banks and ridges 
of snow and swirled about slopes of ice, gripping 
sledges violently. Now we were thrown to one side, 
again to the other, dragging resistlessly beside the sleds. 
Rising, we gripped the rear upstanders with fierce 
determination. 

Just how we escaped broken limbs, and our sledges 
utter destruction, is a mystery to me. After a run of an 
hour we sighted the bear. The animal had evidently 



106 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sighted us, for he was galloping for the open water 
toward the northwest. We cut the fleetest dogs loose 
from each team. Freed, they rushed over the snow like 
race-horses. But the bear had an advantage. As 
the first dog nipped his haunches he plunged into the 
black waters. We advanced and waited for him to rise. 
But this bruin had sense enough to emerge on the op- 
posite shore, where he shook off the freezing waters 
vigorously, and then sat down as if to have a 
laugh at us. 

I knew that to plunge into the waters would have 
been fatal to dog or man and equally fatal to a boat, as 
ice, in the intense cold, would form about it so rapidly 
that it could not be propelled. 

The dogs sat down and howled a chorus of sad dis- 
appointment. For miles about, the men sought fruit- 
lessly for a way to cross. Outwitted, we returned to 
continue our journey Northward. 

Advance Bay and its islands were in sight. Among 
these, we aimed to place our central camp. The light 
was fading fast, and a cold wind came from Humboldt 
Glacier, which at this time was located by a slight dark- 
ening of the sky. Many grounded icebergs were about, 
and the sea ice was much crossed. The hummocks and 
the snow were not as troublesome as farther south. 

Two ravens followed us, their shrill cries echoing 
from berg to berg. The Eskimos inferred from their 
presence that bears were near, but we saw no tracks. 

The cries of the ravens were nearly as provoking 
to the dogs as the bear tracks, and we moved along 
rapidly to Brook's Island. This was rather high, with a 
plateau and sharp cliffs. Bonsall Island near by was 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 107 

rounded by glacial action. Between them we found a 
place to camp somewhat sheltered from the wind. 

While eating our ration of corn meal and bacon, 
howls of the dogs rose to a fierce crescendo. I supposed 
they were saluting the coming of the moon, as is their 
custom, but the howls changed to tones of increasing 
excitement. We went out to inquire, but saw nothing. 
It was so dark that I could not see the dogs twenty feet 
away, and the cold wind made breathing difficult. 

"Nan nook" (Bear) , the Eskimos said in an under- 
tone. I looked around for some position of defense. 
But the dense night-blackness rendered this hopeless, so 
we took our position behind the tent, rifles in hand. The 
bear, of an inquisitive turn of mind, deliberately ad- 
vanced upon us. "Taokoo! taokoo! igloo dia oo-dh- 
tonie!" (Look! look! beyond the iceberg!) said the 
Eskimos. Neither the iceberg nor the bear was visible. 
After a cold and exciting wait, the bear turned and hid 
behind another iceberg. We separated a few of the 
best bear dogs from each other. Bounding off, they 
disappeared quietly in the darkness. The other dogs 
were fastened to the sledges, and away we started. 

I sat on To-ti-o's sledge, as he had the largest team. 
We jumped crevasses, and occasionally dipped in open 
water. 

The track of the bear wound about huge bergs 
which looked in the darkness like nebulous shadows. 
The dogs, of themselves, followed the invisible line of 
tracks. 

Soon the wolfish dogs ahead began to shout the 
chorus of their battle. We left the track in an air-line 
course for the dark mystery out of which the noise came. 



108 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

To-ti-o took the lead. As we neared the noise, all but 
two dogs of his sledge were cut loose. The sledge over- 
turned, I under it. As Koo-loo-ting-wah came along, 
he freed all his dogs. I passed him my new take-down 
Winchester. 

Hurrying after To-ti-o, he had advanced only a few 
steps when To-ti-o fired. Koo-loo-ting-wah, noting an 
effort of the bear to rise, fired the new rifle. 

A flash of fire lit the darkness. Koo-loo-ting-wah 
rushed to me, asking for the folding lantern. The 
smokeless powder had broken the new gun. To-ti-o had 
no more cartridges. The bear, however, was quiet. We 
advanced, lances in hand. 

The dogs danced wildly about the bear, but he 
managed to throw out his feet with sufficient force to 
keep the canine fangs disengaged. The other Eskimos 
now came, with rushing dogs in advance. To-ti-o dashed 
forward and delivered the lance under the bear's 
shoulder. The bear was his. He thereby not only 
gained the prize for the expedition, but, by the addition 
of the bear to his game list, completed bis retinue of ac- 
complishments whereby he could claim the full privileges 
of manhood. 

Among other things, it gave him the right to marry. 
He had already secured a bride of twelve, but, without 
this bear conquest, the match would not have been per- 
manent. He danced with the romantic joy of a young 
lover. We drove the dogs off from the victim with 
lashes, and fell to and skinned and dressed the carcass. 
A taste was given to each dog. The balance was placed 
on the sledges. Soon we were to camp, waiting for the 
sled loads of bear meat. 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 109 

On the day following we started to hunt caribou. 
The sky was beautifully clear ; the glacial wind was lost 
as we left the ice. The party scattered among numerous 
old bergs of the glacier. Koo-loo-ting-wah accom- 
panied me. We aimed to rise to a small tableland from 
which I might make a study of the surroundings. 

We had not gone inland more than a mile when we 
saw numerous fresh caribou tracks. Following these, 
we moved along a steep slope to the tableland above at 
an altitude of about one thousand feet. We peeped 
over the crest. Below us were two reindeer digging 
under the snow for food. The light was good, and they 
were in gun range. An Eskimo, however, gets very near 
his game before he chances a shot, so, winding about 
under the crest of a cliff or a snow-covered shelf of rocks, 
we got to their range and fired. 

The creatures fell. They were nearly white, young, 
and possessed long fur and thick skins, which we needed 
badly for sleeping bags. With pocket knives, the 
natives skinned the animals and divided the meat in three 
packs while I examined the surroundings. 

Part of the face of Humboldt Glacier, which ex- 
tends sixty miles north, was clearly visible in cliffs 
of a dark blue color. The interior ice ran in waves like 
the surface of stormy seas, perfectly free of snow, with 
many crevasses. An odd purplish-blue light upon it was 
reflected to the skies, resembling to some extent a water 
sky. The snow of the sea ice below was of a delicate 
lilac. Otherwise, sky and land were flooded with the 
usual dominant purple of the Arctic twilight. 

This glacier, the largest in Arctic America, had at 
one time extended very much farther south. All the 



110 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

islands, including Brook's, had at one time been under 
its grinding influence. As a picture it was a charming 
study in purple and blue, but the temperature was too 
low and the light too nearly spent to venture a further 
investigation. 

The Eskimos fixed for me an extremely light pack. 
This was comfortably placed on my back, with a bundle 
of thongs over the forehead. The natives took their 
huge bundles, and, together, we started for camp. At 
every rest we cut off slices of caribou tallow. I was sur- 
prised to find that I had acquired a taste for a new 
delicacy. At camp we found the natives, all in good 
humor, awaiting us beside heaps of meat and skins. All 
had been successful in securing from one to two animals 
each in regions nearer by. In a further search they 
had failed to find promising tracks, so we proposed to 
return on the morrow, hoping to meet bears en route. 

With the stupor of the gluttony of reindeer meat 
and the fatigue of the long chase, we slept late. Awak- 
ing, we partook each of a cup of tea, and packed and 
loaded the meat. Drawing heavy loads, the dogs gladly 
leaped forward. The twilight flush already suffused 
the sky with incandescence. Against the southeastern 
sky, glowing with rose, the great glaciers of Humboldt 
loomed in walls of violet, while the sea displayed many 
shades of rose and lilac, according to the direction of the 
light on the slope of the drifts. 

Knowing that their noses pointed to a land of wal- 
rus, the dogs kept up a lively pace. Not a breath of 
air was stirring. The temperature was — 42°. Aiming 
to make Annoatok in two marches, we ran behind the 
sledges to save dog energy as much as possible. The 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 111 

cold enforced vigorous exercise. But, weighted down 
by furs, the comfort of the sledges was often sought 
to escape the tortures of perspiration. The source of 
light slowly shifted along shadowed mountains under 
the frozen sea. Our path glowed with electric, multi- 
colored splendor. 

By degrees, the rose-colored sky assumed the hue of 
old gold, the violet embroideries of clouds changed to 
purple. The gold, in running bands, darkened; the 
purple thickened. Soon new celestial torches lighted 
the changing sheen of the snows. Into the dome of 
heaven swam stars of burning intensity, each of which 
rivalled the sun in a miniature way. In this new illumi- 
nation the twilight fires lost flame and color. Cold 
white incandescence electrically suffused the frigid sky. 

I strode onward, in that white, blazing air, the joy 
and beauty of it enthralling my soul. I felt as though 
I were walking in a world of heatless fire, a half super- 
natural realm such as that wherein reigned the gods of 
ancient peoples. I felt as an old Norseman must have 
felt when the glory of Valhalla burst upon him. For a 
long time I was unconscious of the fatigue which was 
growing upon me. Finally, overcome by the long 
forced march, I sank on my sled. The Eskimos, chant- 
ing songs, loomed ahead, their forms magnified in the 
unearthly light. Slowly a subtle change appeared along 
the horizon. Silent and impressed, I watched the chang- 
ing scenes and evolving lights as if all were some divine 
and awe-inspiring stage arranged by God for some 
heroic drama of man. 

New and warm with shimmering veils of color, at- 
tended by four radiant satellites, the golden face of the 



112 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

moon rose majestically over the sparkling pinnacles of 
the Greenland glaciers. Below, the lovely planet- 
deflected images formed rainbow curves like rubied neck- 
laces about her invisible neck. As the moon ascended 
in a spiral course the rose hues paled, the white light 
from the stars softened to a rich, creamy glow. 

We continued our course, the Eskimos singing, the 
dogs occasionally barking. Hours passed. Then we 
all suddenly became silent. The last, the supreme, 
glory of the North flamed over earth and frozen sea. 
The divine fingers of the aurora,* that unseen and in- 
tangible thing of flame, who comes from her mysteri- 
ous throne to smile upon a benighted world, began to 
touch the sky with glittering, quivering lines of glowing 
silver. With skeins of running, liquid fire she wove 
over the sky a shimmering panorama of blazing beauty. 
Forms of fire, indistinct and unhuman, took shape and 
vanished. From horizon to zenith, cascades of milk- 
colored fire ascended and fell, as must the magical foun- 
tains of heaven. 

In the glory of this other-world light I felt the in- 



*Auroras in the Arctic are best seen in more southern latitudes. The 
display here described was the brightest observed on this trip. Not more 
than three or four others were noted during the following year, but in 
previous trips I have witnessed some very wonderful color and motion 
displays. 

The best illustrations of this remarkable color of aurora and night 
come from the brush of Mr. Frank Wilbert Stokes. These were repro- 
duced in the Century Magazine of February, 1903. After their appear- 
ance, Mr. Peary accorded to Mr. Stokes (a member of his expedition) the 
same sort of treatment as he had accorded Astrup — the same as that 
shown to others. In a letter to the late Richard Watson Gilder, editor of 
the Century, he denounced and did his utmost to discredit Mr. Stokes, 
maintaining that Mr. Stokes had no right to publish magazine articles or 
pictures without first obtaining Mr. Peary's sanction, and insisting that 
no such remarkable colors are displayed by the aurora borealis. Mr. 
Gilder replied, in defense of Mr. Stokes, by quoting from Peary's own 
book descriptions of even more remarkable color effects. 



FIRST WEEK OF THE LONG NIGHT 118 

significance of self, a human unit; and, withal I be- 
came more intensely conscious than ever of the transfig- 
uring influence of the sublime ideal to which I had set 
myself. I exulted in the thrill of an indomitable deter- 
mination, that determination of human beings to essay 
great things — that human purpose which, throughout 
history, has resulted in the great deeds, the great art, of 
the world, and which lifts men above themselves. Spir- 
itually intoxicated, I rode onward. The aurora faded. 
But its glow remained in my soul. 

We arrived at camp late on November I. 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE 
WALRUS 

DESPERATE AND DANGEROUS HUNTING, IN ORDER TO 

SECURE ADEQUATE SUPPLIES FOR THE POLAR DASH 

A THRILLING AND ADVENTUROUS RACE IS MADE OVER 
FROZEN SEAS AND ICY MOUNTAINS TO THE WALRUS 

GROUNDS TERRIFIC EXPLOSION OF THE ICE ON 

WHICH THE PARTY HUNTS SUCCESS IN SECURING 

OVER SEVEN SLED-LOADS OF BLUBBER MAKES THE 
POLE SEEM NEARER — AN ARCTIC TRAGEDY 

VIII 

Five Hundred Miles Through Night and Storm 

The early days of November were devoted to rou- 
tine work about Annoatok. Meat was gathered and 
dried in strips by Francke ; a full force of men were put 
to the work of devising equipment; the women were 
making clothing and dressing skins ; and then a traveling 
party was organized to go south to gather an additional 
harvest of meat and skins and furs. For this purpose 
we planned to take advantage of the November moon. 
Thus, in the first week of the month, we were ready for 
a five-hundred-mile run to the southern villages and to 
the night-hunting grounds for walrus. 

A crack of whips explosively cut the taut, cold air. 
The raucous, weird and hungry howl of the wolf-dogs 




RUDOLPH FRANCKE IN ARCTIC COSTUME 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 115 

replied: "Ah-u-OO, Ah-u-oo, Ah-u-oo!" rolled over 
the ice ; "Huk-huk!" the Eskimos shouted. There was a 
sudden tightening of the traces of our seven sledges; 
fifty lithe, strong bodies leaped forward; and, holding 
the upstanders, the rear upright framework of the native 
sledges, I and my six companions were off. In a few 
moments the igloos of the village, with lights shining 
through windows where animal membranes served as 
glass, had sped by us. The cheering of the natives be- 
hind was soon lost in the grind of our sledges on the ir- 
regular ice and the joyous, unrestrained barking of the 
leaping, tearing, restless dog-teams. 

To the south of us, a misty orange flush suffused 
the dun-colored sky. The sun, which we had not seen 
for an entire month, now late in November far below 
the horizon, sent to us the dim radiance of a far-away 
smile. After its setting it had, about noon time of each 
day, set the sky faintly aglow, this radiance decreasing 
until it was lost in the brightness of the midday moon. 
Rising above the horizon, a suspended lamp of frosty, 
pearl-colored glass, the moon for ten days of twenty- 
four hours, each month, encircled about us, now lost 
behind ice-sheeted mountains, again subdued under 
colored films of frost clouds, but always relieving the 
night of its gloom, and permitting, when the wind was 
not too turbulent, outside activity. 

A wonderful animal is the sea-horse, or whale- 
horse, as the Icelanders and Dutch (from whom we have 
borrowed "walrus") call it. In the summer its life is 
easy and its time is spent in almost perpetual sunny 
dreams, but in winter it would be difficult to conceive 
of a harder existence than its own. Finding food in 



116 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

shallow Polar seas, it comes to permanent open water, 
or to the crevasses of an active pack for breath. With 
but a few minutes' rest on a storm-swept surface, it ex- 
plores, without other relief for weeks, the double-night 
darkness of unknown depths under the frozen sea. At 
last, when no longer able to move its huge web feet, it 
rises on the ice or seeks ice-locked waters for a needed 
rest. In winter, the thump of its ponderous head keeps 
the young ice from closing its breathing place. If on ice, 
its thick skin, its blanket of blubber, and an automatic 
shiver, keep its blood from hardening. This is man's 
opportunity to secure meat and fuel, but the quest in- 
volves a task to which no unaided paleface is equal. The 
night hunt of the walrus is Eskimo sport, but It is never- 
theless sport of a most engaging and exciting order. 

So that I might not be compelled to start on my 
dash stintedly equipped, we now prepared for such an 
adventure by moonlight. Before this time there had 
not been sufficient atmospheric stability and ice con- 
tinuity to promise comparative safety. My heart ex- 
ulted as I heard the crack of the whips in the electric 
air and felt the earth rush giddily under my feet as I 
leaped behind the speeding teams. The fever of the 
quest was in my veins; its very danger lent an inde- 
scribable thrill, for success now meant more to me than 
perhaps hunting had ever meant to any man. 

Not long after we started, darkness descended. The 
moon slowly passed behind an impenetrable curtain of 
inky clouds; the orange glow of the sun faded; and we 
were surrounded on every side by a blackness so thick 
that it was almost palpable. 

As I now recall that mad race I marvel how we 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 117 

escaped smashing sledges, breaking our limbs, crush- 
ing our heads. We tumbled and jumped in a frantic 
race over the broken, irregular pack-ice from Annoatok 
to Cape Alexander, a distance of thirty miles as the 
raven moves, but more than forty miles as we follow the 
sledge trail. Here the ice became thin ; we felt cold mist 
rising from open water; and now and then, in an oc- 
casional breaking of the darkness, we could discern 
vast sheets or snaky leads of open sea ahead of us. 

To reach the southern waters where the walrus were 
to be found, we now had to seek an overland route, 
which would take us over the frozen Greenland moun- 
tains and lead us through the murky clouds, a route of 
twisting detours, gashed glaciers, upturned barriers of 
rock and ice, swept by blinding winds, unmarked by any 
trail, and which writhed painfully beyond us for forty- 
seven miles. 

Arriving at the limit of traversable sea-ice, we 
now paused before sloping cliffs of glacial land-ice 
which we had to climb. Picture to yourself a vast glac- 
ier rising precipitously, like a gigantic wall, thousands 
of feet above you, and creeping tortuously up its glassy, 
purple face, if such that surface could be called, formed 
by the piling of one glacial formation upon the other 
in the descent through the valleys, a twisting, retreat- 
ing road of jagged ice strata, of earth and stone, 
blocked here and there by apparently impassable im- 
pediments, pausing at almost unscalable, frozen cliffs, 
and at times no wider than a few yards. Imagine your- 
self pausing, as we suddenly did, and viewing the per- 
ilous ascent, the only way open to us, revealed in the 
passing glimmer of the pale, circling moon, despair, 



118 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

fear and hope tugging at your heart. Whipped across 
the sky by the lashing winds, the torn clouds, passing 
the face of the moon, cast magnified and grotesquely 
gesticulating shadows on the glistening face of the icy 
Gibraltar before us. Some of these misty shapes 
seemed to threaten, others shook their rag-like arms, 
beckoning forward. Upon the face of the towering, 
perpendicular ice-wall, great hummocks like the 
gnarled black limbs of a huge tree twisted upwards. 

I realized that the frightful ascent must be made. 
The goal of my single aim suddenly robbed the climb 
of its terrors. I dropped my whip. Six other whips 
cracked through the air. Koo-loo-ting-wah said, "Kah- 
Kah!" (Come, come!) But Sotia said, "lodaria-Iod- 
arial" (Impossible, impossible!) The dogs emitted 
shrill howls. Holding the rear upstanders of the 
sledges, we helped to push them forward. 

Before us, the fifty dogs climbed like cats through 
narrow apertures of the ice, or took long leaps over the 
serried battlements that barred our way. We stumbled 
after, sometimes we fell. Again we had to lift the 
sledges after the dogs. 

From the top of the glacier a furious wind brushed 
us backwards. We felt the steaming breath of the 
laboring dogs in our faces. My heart thumped pain- 
fully. Now and then the moon disappeared; we fol- 
lowed the unfailing instinct of the animals. I realized 
that a misstep might plunge me to a horrible death in 
the ice abysm below. With a howl of joy from drivers, 
the dogs finally leaped to the naked surface of the 
wind-swept glacier. Panting in indescribable relief, 
we followed. But the worst part of the journey lay 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 119 

before us. The sable clouds, like the curtain of some 
cyclopean stage, seemed suddenly drawn aside as if 
by an invisible hand. 

Upon the illimitable stretch of ice rising be- 
fore us like the slopes of a glass mountain, the 
full rays of the moon poured liquid silver. Only in 
dreams had such a scene as this been revealed to me — 
in dreams of the enchanted North — which did not now 
equal reality. The spectre filled me with both awed 
delight and a sense of terror. 

Beyond the fan-shaped teams of dogs the eyes ran 
over fields of night-blackened blue, gashed and broken 
by bottomless canyons which twisted like purple ser- 
pents in every direction. Vast expanses of smooth 
surface, polished by the constant winds, reflected the 
glow of the moon and gleamed like isles of silver in 
a motionless, deep, sapphire sea; but all was covered 
with the air of night. In the moonlight, the jagged ir- 
regular contours of the broken ice became touched with 
a burning gilt. A constant effect like running quick- 
silver played about us as the moon sailed around the 
heavens. 

Above us the ice pinnacles were lost in the clouds, 
huge billowy masses that were blown in the wind 
troublously, like the heavy black tresses of some Titan 
woman. I thrilled with the beauty of the magical spec- 
tacle, yet, when I viewed the perilous pathway, I felt 
the grip of terror again at my heart. 

I was aroused from my brief reverie by the familiar 
"Huk-huk! Ah-gah! Ah-gdhl" of the Eskimos, and 
placing our hands upon the sledges, we leaped forward 
into the purple-gashed sea, with its blinding sheets of 



120 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

silver. I seemed carried through a world such as the 
old Norsemen sang of in the sagas. 

Of a sudden, as though extinguished, the moon- 
light faded, huge shadows leaped onto the ice before us, 
frenziedly waved their arms and melted into the pitch- 
black darkness which descended. I had read imag- 
inative tales of wanderings in the nether region of the 
dead, but only now did I have a faint glimmering of 
the terror (with its certain, exultant intoxication) 
which lost souls must feel when they wander in a dark- 
ness beset with invisible horrors. 

Over the ice, cut with innumerable chasms and 
neck-breaking irregularities, we rushed in the dark. 
The wind moaned down from the despairing cloud-en- 
folded heights above; it tore through the bottomless 
gullies on every side with a hungry roar. Beads of 
perspiration rolled down my face and froze into icicles 
on my chin and furs. The temperature was 48° below 
zero. 

Occasionally we stopped a moment to gasp for 
breath. I could hear the panting of my companions, 
the labor of the dogs. A few seconds' inaction was 
followed by convulsive shivering; the pain of stopping 
was more excruciating than that of climbing. In the 
darkness, the calls of the invisible Eskimos to the dogs 
seemed like the weird appeals of disembodied things. I 
felt each moment the imminent danger of a frightful 
death; yet the dogs with their marvelous intuition, 
twisting this way and that, and sometimes retreating, 
sensed the open leads ahead and rushed forward safely. 

At times I felt the yawning depth of ice canyons 
immediately by my side — that a step might plunge me 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 121 

into the depths. Desperately I held on to the sledges, 
and was dragged along. Such an experience might 
well turn the hair of the most expert Alpinist white in 
one night; yet I did not have time to dwell fully upon 
the dangers, and I was carried over a trip more perilous 
than, later, proved the actual journey on sea-ice to the 
Pole. 

Occasionally the moon peered forth from its clouds 
and brightened the gloom. In its light the ice fields 
swam dizzily by us, as a landscape seen from the win- 
dow of a train; the open gashed gullies writhed like 
snakes, pinnacles dancing like silver spears. By alter- 
nate running and riding we managed to keep from 
freezing and sweating. We finally reached an altitude 
of inland ice exceeding two thousand feet. Silver fog 
crept under our feet. We were traveling now in a 
world of clouds. 

We paced twelve miles at a rapid speed. In the 
light of the moon-burned clouds which rolled about our 
heads, I could see the forms of my companions only 
indistinctly. The dogs ahead were veiled in the argent, 
tremulous mists; the ice sped under me; I was no longer 
conscious of an earthly footing; I might have been 
soaring in space. 

We began to descend. Suddenly the dogs started 
in leaps to fly through the air. Our sleds were jerked 
into clouds of cutting snow. We jabbed our feet into 
the drift to check the mad speed. On each side we saw 
a huge mountain, seemingly thousands of feet above us, 
but ahead was nothing but the void of empty space. 
Soon the sledges shot beyond the dogs. We threw our- 
selves off to check the momentum. With dog intelli- 



122 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

gence and savage strength judiciously expended, we 
reached the sea level by flying flights over dangerous 
slopes, and, like cats, we landed on nimble feet in 
Sontag Bay. 

A bivouac was arranged under a dome of snow- 
blocks, and exhausted by the mad journey, a sleep of 
twenty-four hours was indulged in. 

Now, for a time, our task was easier. A course 
was set along the land, southward. Each of the native 
settlements was visited. The season's gossip was ex- 
changed. Presents went into each household, and a 
return of furs and useful products filled our sledges. 
Thus the time was occupied in profitable visits during 
the feeble light of the November moon. With the 
December moon we returned northward to Ser-wah- 
ding-wah. 

Then our struggle began anew for the walrus 
grounds. The Polar drift, forcing through Smith 
Sound, left an open space of water about ten miles 
south of Cape Alexander. This disturbed area was our 
destination. It was marked by a dark cloud, a "water- 
sky" — against the pearly glow of the southern heavens. 
The ice surface was smooth. We did not encounter 
the crushed heaps of ice of the northern route, but 
there were frequent crevasses which, though cemented 
with new ice, gave us considerable anxiety, for I real- 
ized that if a northwesterly storm should suddenly strike 
the pack we might be carried helplessly adrift. 

The urgency of our mission to secure dog food, 
however, left no alternative. It was better to brave 
death now, I thought, than to perish from scant supplies 
on the Polar trip. We had not gone far before the 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 123 

ever-keen canine noses detected bear tracks on the ice. 
These we shot over the pack surface in true battle spirit. 
As the bears were evidently bound for the same hunt- 
ing grounds, this course was accepted as good enough 
for us. Although the trail was laid in a circuitous 
route, it avoided the most difficult pressure angles. We 
traveled until late in the day. The moon was low, 
and the dark purple hue of the night blackened the 
snows. 

Of a sudden we paused. From a distance came 
a low call of walrus bulls. The bass, nasal bellow was 
muffled by the low temperature, and did not thump the 
ear drums with the force of the cry in sunny summer. 
My six companions shouted with glee, and became 
almost hysterical with excitement. The dogs, hearing 
the call, howled and jumped to jerk the sledges. We 
dropped our whips, and they responded with all their 
brute force in one bound. It was difficult to hold to 
the sledges as we shot over the blackening snows. 

The ice-fields became smaller as we advanced; 
dangerous thin ice intervened; but the owl-eyes of the 
Eskimos knew just where to find safe ice. The sounds 
increased as we approached. We descended from the 
snow-covered ice to thin, black ice and for a time I 
felt as if we were flying over the open surface of the 
deep. With a low call, the dogs were stopped. They 
were detached from the sledges and tied to holes drilled 
with a knife in ice boulders. 

Pushing the sledges upon which rested the har- 
poon, the lance, the gun and knives, each one of us 
advanced at some distance from his neighbor. Soon, 
lines of mist told of dangerous breaks, and the ice was 



124 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

carefully tested with the spiked shaft before ventur- 
ing farther. I was behind Koo-loo-ting-wah's sledge. 
While he was creeping up to the water's edge, there 
came the rush of a spouting breath so near that we 
seemed to feel the crystal spray. I took his place and 
pushed the sledge along. 

Taking the harpoon, with stealthy strides Koo-loo- 
ting-wah moved to the water's edge and waited for the 
next spout. We heard other spouts in various direc- 
tions, and in the dark water, slightly lighted by the 
declining moon, we saw other dark spots of spray. 
Suddenly a burst of steam startled me. It was near 
the ice where Koo-loo-ting-wah lay. I was about to 
shout, but the Eskimo turned, held up his hand and 
whispered "Ouit-ou" (Wait.) 

Then, very slowly, he lowered his body, spread out 
his form on the ice, and startlingly imitated the wal- 
rus call. His voice preternaturally bellowed through 
the night. Out of the inky water, a walrus lifted its 
head. I saw its long, white, spiral, ivory tusk and two 
phosphorescent eyes. Koo-loo-ting-wah did not stir. 
I shivered with cold and impatience. Why did he not 
strike? Our prey seemed within our hands. I uttered 
an exclamation of vexed disappointment when, with a 
splash, the head disappeared, leaving on the water a 
line of algae fire. 

For several minutes I stood gazing seaward. Far 
away on the black ocean, to my amazement, I saw 
lights appearing like distant lighthouse signals, or the 
mast lanterns on passing ships. They flashed and 
suddenly faded, these strange will-o'-the wisps of the 
Arctic sea. In a moment I realized that the lights were 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 125 

caused by distant icebergs crashing against one another. 
On the bergs as on the surface of the sea, as it happened 
now, were coatings of a teeming germ life, the same 
which causes phosphorescence in the trail of an ocean 
ship. The effect was indescribably weird. 

Suddenly I jumped backward, appalled by a noise 
that reverberated shudderingly under the ice on which 
I stood. The ice shook as if with an earthquake. I 
hastily retreated, but Koo-loo-ting-wah, lying by the 
water's edge, never stirred. A dead man could not have 
been less responsive. While I was wondering as to the 
cause of the upheaval, the ice, within a few feet of Koo- 
loo-ting-wah, was suddenly torn asunder as if by a sub- 
marine explosion. Koo-loo-ting-wah leaped into the 
air and descended apparently toward the distending 
space of turbulent open water. I saw him raise his arm 
and deliver a harpoon with amazing dexterity; at the 
same instant I had seen also the white tusk and phos- 
phorescent eyes of a walrus appear for a moment in the 
black water and then sink. 

The harpoon had gone home; the line was run out; 
a spiked lance shaft was driven into the ice through 
a loop in the end of the line, and the line was thus 
fastened. We knew the wounded beast would have to 
rise for air. With rifle and lance ready, we waited, 
intending, each time a spout of water arose, to drive 
holes into the tough armor of skin until the beast's 
vitals were tapped. By feeling the line, I could sense 
the struggles of the wild creature below in the depths 
of the sea. Then the line would slacken, a spout of 
steam would rise from the water, Koo-loo-ting-wah 
would drive a spear, I a shot from my gun. The air 



126 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

would become oppressive with the creature's frightful 
bellowing. Then would come an interval of silence. 

For about two hours we kept up the battle. Then 
the line slackened, Koo-loo-ting-wah called the others, 
and together we drew the huge carcass, steaming with 
blood, to the surface of the ice. Smelling the odorous 
wet blood, the dogs exultantly howled. 

Falling upon the animal, the natives, trained in 
the art, with sharp knives had soon dressed the thick 
meat and blubber from the bones and lashed the welter- 
ing mass on a sledge. This done, with quick despatch, 
they separated, dashed along the edge of the ice, casting 
harpoons whenever the small geysers appeared on the 
water. We were in excellent luck. One walrus after 
another was dragged lumberingly on the ice, and in the 
course of several hours the seven sledges were heavily 
loaded with the precious supplies which would now 
enable me, liberally equipped, to start Poleward. We 
gave our dogs a light meal, and started landward, leav- 
ing great piles of walrus meat behind us on the ice. 

Although we were tired on reaching land, we began 
to build several snow-houses in which to sleep. Not far 
away was an Eskimo village. Summoning the natives 
to help us bring in the spoils of the hunt which had been 
left on the ice, we first indulged in a gluttonous feast 
of uncooked meat, in which the dogs ravenously joined. 
The meat tasted like train-oil. The work of bringing 
in the meat and blubber and caching it for subsequent 
gathering was hardly finished when, from the ominous, 
glacial-covered highlands, a winter blast suddenly be- 
gan to come with terrific and increasing fury. 

Blinding gusts of snow whipped the frozen earth. 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 127 

The wind shrieked fiendishly. Above its roar, not three 
hours after our last trip on the ice, a resounding, crash- 
ing noise rose above the storm. Braving the blasts, I 
went outside the igloo. Through the darkness I could 
see white curvatures of piling sea-ice. I could hear the 
rush and crashing of huge floes and glaciers being car- 
ried seaward. Had we waited another day, had we been 
out on the ice seeking walrus just twenty-four hours 
after our successful hunt, we should have been carried 
away in the sudden roaring gale, and hopelessly peri- 
shed in the wind-swept deep. 

During the night, or hours usually allotted to rest, 
the noise continued unabated. I failed to sleep. Now 
and then, a crashing noise shivered through the storm. 
An igloo from the nearby settlement was swept into 
the sea. During the gale many of the natives who had 
retired with their clothes hung out to dry, awoke to 
find that the wind had robbed them of their valuable 
winter furs. 

Some time along in the course of the night, I 
heard outside excited Eskimos shouting. There was 
terror in the voices. Arising and dressing hastily, I 
rushed into the teeth of the storm. Not far away were 
a number of natives rushing along the land some 
twenty feet beneath which the sea lapped the land-ice 
with furious tongues. They had cast fines into the sea 
and were shouting, it seemed, to someone who was 
struggling in the hopeless, frigid tumult of water. 

I soon learned of the dreadful catastrophe. Ky- 
un-a, an old and cautious native, awakened by the storm 
a brief while before, after dressing himself, ventured 
outside his stone house to secure articles which he had 



128 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

left there. As was learned later, he had just tied his 
sledge to a rock when a gust of wind resistlessly rushed 
seaward, hf ted the aged man from his feet, and dropped 
him into the sea. Through the storm, his dreadful 
cries attracted his companions. Some who were now 
tugging at the lines, were barely covered with fur rugs 
which they had thrown about them, and their limbs 
were partly bare. Now and then, a blinding gust of 
wind, filled with freezing snow crystals, almost lifted 
us from our feet. The sea lapped its tongues sicken- 
ingly below us. 

Finally a limp body, ice-sheeted, dripping with 
water, yet clinging with its mummied frozen hands to 
the line, was hauled up on the ice. Ky-un-a, uncon- 
scious, was carried to his house about five hundred feet 
away. There, after wrapping him in furs, in a brave 
effort to save his life, the natives cut open his fur gar- 
ments. The fur, frozen solid by the frigid blasts in the 
brief period which had elapsed since his being hf ted from 
the water, took with it, in parting from his body, long 
patches of skin, leaving the quivering raw flesh exposed 
as though by a burn. For three days the aged man lay 
dying, suffering excruciating tortures, the victim of 
merely a common accident, which at any time may hap- 
pen to anyone of these Spartan people. I shall never 
forget the harrowing moans of the suffering man pierc- 
ing the storm. Perhaps it had been merciful to let him 
perish in the sea. 

Ky-un-a's old home was some forty miles distant. 
To it, that he might die there, he desired to go. On the 
fourth day after the accident, he was placed in a litter, 
covered with warm furs, and borne over the smooth ice- 



THE MOONLIGHT QUEST OF THE WALRUS 129 

fields. I shall never forget that funeral and solemn 
procession. A benign calm prevailed over land and sea. 
The orange glow of a luxurious moon set the ice coldly 
aflame. Long shadows, like spectral mourners, robed 
in purple, loomed before the tiny procession. Now and 
then, as they dwindled in the distance, I saw them, like 
black dots, crossing areas of polished ice which glowed 
like mirror lakes of silver. From the distance, softly 
shuddered the decreasing moans of the dying man ; then 
there was silence. I marvelled again upon the lure of 
this eerily, weirdly beautiful land, where, always im- 
minent, death can be so terrible. 



MIDNIGHT AND MID- WINTER 

THE EQUIPMENT AND ITS PROBLEMS — NEW ART IN THE 
MAKING OF SLEDGES COMBINING LIGHTNESS — PROG- 
RESS OF THE PREPARATIONS CHRISTMAS, WITH ITS 

GLAD TIDINGS AND AUGURIES FOR SUCCESS IN QUEST 
OF THE POLE 

IX 

The Coming of the Eskimo Stork 

In planning for the Polar dash I appreciated fully 
the vital importance of sledges. These, I realized, 
must possess, to an ultimate degree, the combined 
strength of steel with the lightness and elasticity of 
the strongest wood. The sledge must neither be flimsy 
nor bulky; nor should it be heavy or rigid. After a 
careful study of the art of sledge-traveling from the 
earliest time to the present day, after years of sledging 
and sledge observation in Greenland, the Antarctic and 
Alaska, I came to the conclusion that success was de- 
pendent, not upon any one type of sledge, but upon 
local fitness. 

All natives of the frigid wilds have devised sledges, 
traveling and camp equipment to fit their local needs. 
The collective lessons of ages are to be read in this de- 
velopment of primitive sledge traveling. If these wild 
people had been provided with the best material from 




MIDNIGHT A PANORAMA OF BLACK LACSUER AND SILVER." 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 131 

which to work out their hard problems of life, then it is 
probable that their methods could not be improved. 
But neither the Indian nor the Eskimo was ever in 
possession of either the tools or the raw material to fit 
their inventive genius for making the best equipment. 
Therefore, I had studied first the accumulated results 
of the sledge of primitive man and from this tried to 
construct a sledge with its accessories in which were in- 
cluded the advantages of up-to-date mechanics with the 
use of the most durable material which a search of the 
entire globe had afforded me.* 

The McClintock sledges, made of bent wood with 
wide runners, had been adopted by nearly all explorers, 
under different names and with considerable modifica- 
tions, for fifty years. This sledge is still the best type 
for deep soft snow conditions, for which it was orig- 
inally intended. But such snow is not often found on 
the ice of the Polar sea. The native sledge which Peary 
copied, although well adapted to local use along the ice- 
foot and the land-adhering pack, is not the best sledge 
for a trans-boreal run. This is because it is too heavy 
and too easily broken, and breakable in such a way that 
it cannot be quickly repaired. 

•The so-called "Jesup" sled, which Mr. Peary used on his last Polar 
trip, is a copy of the Eskimo sledge, a lumbering, unwieldy thing weighing 
over one hundred pounds and which bears the same relation to a refined 
bent-hickory vehicle that a lumber cart does to an express wagon. In this 
"Jesup" sledge there is a dead weight of over fifty pounds of useless wood. 
The needless weight thus carried can, in a better sledge, be replaced by 
fifty pounds of food. This fifty pounds will feed one man over the entire 
route to the Pole. Mr. Peary claims that the Pole is not reachable without 
this sled, but Borup, in his book, reports that most of the sledges were 
broken at the first trial. 

Since an explorer's success is dependent upon his ability to transport 
food it behooves him to eliminate useless weight. Therefore, the solid 
runner sled is as much out of place as a solid wood wheel would be in an 
automobile. 



132 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

For the Arctic pack, a sledge must be of a moderate 
length, with considerable width. Narrow runners offer 
less friction and generally give sufficient bearing sur- 
face. The other qualities vital to quick movement and 
durability are lightness, elasticity and interchangeability 
of parts. All of these conditions I planned to meet in 
a new pattern of sledge which should combine the dura- 
bility of the Eskimo sledges and the lightness of the 
Yukon sledge of Alaska. 

The making of a suitable sledge caused me a good 
deal of concern. Before leaving New York I had 
taken the precaution of selecting an abundance of the 
best hickory wood in approximately correct sizes for 
sledge construction. Suitable tools had also been pro- 
vided. Now, as the long winter with its months of 
darkness curtailed the time of outside movement, the 
box-house was refitted as a workshop. From eight to 
ten men were at the benches, eight hours each day, 
shaping and bending runners, fitting and lashing inter- 
changeable cross bars and posts, and riveting the iron 
shoes. Thus the sledge parts were manufactured to 
possess the same facilities to fit not only all other 
sledges, but also other parts of the same sledge. If, 
therefore, part of a sledge should be broken, other parts 
of a discarded sledge could offer repair sections easily. 

The general construction of this new sledge is 
easily understood from the various photographs pre- 
sented. All joints were made elastic by seal-thong 
lashings. The sledges were twelve feet long and thirty 
inches wide ; the runners had a width of an inch and an 
eighth. Each part and each completed sledge was 
thoroughly tested before it was finally loaded for the 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 133 

long run. For dog harness, the Greenland Eskimo pat- 
tern was adopted. But canine habits are such that when 
was adopted. But canine habits are such that when 
rations are reduced to minimum limits the leather strips 
disappear as food. To obviate this disaster, the shoul- 
der straps were made of folds of strong canvas, while 
the traces were cut from cotton log line. 

A boat is an important adjunct to every sledge 
expedition which hopes to venture far from its base 
of operations. It is a matter of necessity, even when 
following a coast line, as was shown by the mishap of 
Mylius Erickson, for if he had had a boat he would 
himself have returned to tell the story of the Danish 
Expedition to East Greenland. 

Need for a boat comes with the changing condi- 
tions of the advancing season. Things must be carried 
for several months for a chance use in the last stages 
of the return. But since food supplies are necessarily 
limited, delay is fatal, and therefore, when open water 
prevents advance, a boat is so vitally necessary as to 
become a life preserver. Foolish indeed is the explorer 
who pays slight attention to this important problem. 

The transportation of a boat, however, offers many 
serious difficulties. Nansen introduced the kayak, and 
most explorers since have followed his example. The 
Eskimo canoe serves the purpose very well, but to carry 
it for three months without hopeless destruction re- 
quires so tremendous an amount of energy as to make 
the task practically impossible. 

Sectional boats, aluminum boats, skin floats and 
other devices had been tried, but to all there is the same 
fatal objection on a Polar trip, of impossible trans- 



134 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

portation. But it seems odd that the ordinary folding 
canvas boat has not been pressed into this service. 

We found such a canoe boat to fit the situation 
exactly, and selected a twelve-foot Eureka-shaped boat 
with wooden frame. The slats, spreaders and floor- 
pieces were utilized as parts of sledges. The canvas 
cover served as a floor cloth for our sleeping bags. Thus 
the boat did useful service for a hundred days and never 
seemed needlessly cumbersome. When the craft was 
finally spread for use as a boat, in it we carried the 
sledge, in it we sought game for food, and in it or under 
it we camped. Without it we could never have re- 
turned. 

Even more vital than the choice of sledges, more 
vital than anything else, I knew, in such a trip as I 
proposed, is the care of the stomach. From the pub- 
lished accounts of Arctic traveling it is impossible to 
learn a fitting ration, and I hasten to add that I well 
realized that our own experience may not solve the 
problem for future expeditions. The gastronomic 
need differs with every man. It differs with every ex- 
pedition, and it is radically different with every nation. 
Thus, when De Gerlache, with good intentions, forced 
Norwegian food into French stomachs, he learned that 
there is a nationality in gastronomies. Nor is it safe 
to listen to scientific advice, for the stomach is arbitrary, 
and stands as autocrat over every human sense and 
passion and will not easily yield to dictates. 

In this respect, as in others, I was helped very 
much by the natives. The Eskimo is ever hungry, but 
his taste is normal. Things of doubtful value in nutri- 
tion form no part in his dietary. Animal food, con- 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 135 

sisting of meat and fat, is entirely satisfactory as a 
steady diet without other adjuncts. His food requires 
neither salt nor sugar, nor is cooking a matter of neces- 
sity. 

Quantity is important, but quality applies only 
to the relative proportion of fat. With this key to 
gastronomies, pemmican was selected as the staple food, 
and it would also serve equally well for the dogs. 

We had an ample supply of pemmican, which was 
made of pounded dried beef, sprinkled with a few 
raisins and some currants, and slightly sweetened with 
sugar. This mixture was cemented together with 
heated beef tallow and run into tin cans containing six 
pounds each. 

This combination was invented by the American 
Indian, and the supply for this expedition was made by 
Armour of Chicago after a formula furnished by Cap- 
tain Evelyn B. Baldwin. Pemmican had been used be- 
fore as part of the long list of foodstuffs for Arctic expe* 
ditions, but with us there was the important difference 
that it was to be almost entirely the whole bill of fare 
when away from game haunts. The palate surprises 
in our store were few. 

By the time Christmas approached I had reason 
indeed for rejoicing. Although this happy season 
meant little to me as a holiday of gift-giving and feast 
ing, it came with auguries for success in the thing my 
heart most dearly desired, and compared to which earth 
had nothing more alluring to give. 

Our equipment was now about complete. In the 
box house were tiers of new sledges, rows of boxes and 
piles of bags filled with clothing, canned supplies, 



136 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

dried meat, and sets of strong dog harness. The 
food, fuel and camp equipment for the Polar dash were 
ready. Everything had been thoroughly tested and put 
aside for a final examination. Elated by our success, 
and filled with gratitude to the faithful natives, I de- 
clared a week of holidays, with rejoicing and feasting. 
Feasting was at this time especially desirable, for we 
had now to fatten up for the anticipated race. 

Christmas day in the Arctic does not dawn with the 
glow which children in waking early to seek their be- 
decked tree, view outside their windows in more south- 
ern lands. Both Christmas day and Christmas night 
are black. Only the stars keep their endless watch in 
the cold skies. 

Standing outside my igloo on the happy night, I 
gazed at the Pole Star, the guardian of the goal I 
sought, and I remembered with a thrill the story of that 
mysterious star the Wise Men had followed, of the 
wonders to which it led them, and I felt an awed rever- 
ence for the Power that set these unfaltering beacons 
above the earth and had written in their golden traces, 
with a burning pen, veiled and unrevealed destinies 
which men for ages have tried to learn. 

I retired to sleep with thoughts of home. I thought 
of my children, and the bated expectancy with which 
they were now going to bed, of their hopefulness of the 
morrow, and the unbounded joy they would have in gifts 
to which I could not contribute. I think tears that 
night wet my pillow of furs. But I would give them, 
if I did not fail, the gift of a father's achievement, of 
which, with a glow, I felt they should be proud. 

The next morning the natives arrived at the box 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 137 

house early. It had been cleared of seamstresses and 
workmen the day before, and put in comparatively 
spick and span order. I had told the natives they were 
to feed to repletion during the week of holiday, an in- 
junction to the keeping of which they did not need 
much urging. 

Early Christmas morning, men and women began 
working overtime on the two festive meals which were 
to begin that day and continue daily. 

About this time, the most important duty of our 
working force had been to uncover caches and dig up 
piles of frozen meat and blubber. Of this, which pos- 
sesses the flavor and odor of Limburger cheese, and also 
the advantage, if such it be, of intoxicating them, the 
natives are particularly fond. While a woman held a 
native torch of moss dipped in oils and pierced with a 
stick, the men, by means of iron bars and picks, dug up 
boulders of meat just as coal is forced from mines. 

A weird spectacle was this, the soft light of the 
blubber lamp dancing on the spotless snows, the soot- 
covered faces of the natives grinning while they worked. 
The blubber was taken close to their igloos and placed 
on raised platforms of snow, so as to be out of reach 
of the dogs. Of this meat and blubber, which was 
served raw, partially thawed, cooked and also frozen, 
the natives partook during most of their waking hours. 
They enjoyed it, indeed, as much as turkey was being 
relished in my far-away home. 

Moreover they had, what was an important deli- 
cacy, native ice cream. This would not, of course, 
please the palate of those accustomed to the American 
delicacy, but to the Eskimo maiden it possesses all the 



138 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

lure of creams, sherberts or ice cream sodas. With us, 
sugar in the process of digestion turns into fat, and fat 
into body fuel. The Eskimo, having no sugar, yearns 
for fat, and it comes with the taste of sweets. 

The making of native ice cream is quite a task. I 
watched the process of making it Christmas day with 
amused interest. The native women must have a mix- 
ture of oils from the seal, walrus and narwhal. Wal- 
rus and seal blubber is frozen, cut into strips, and 
pounded with great force so as to break the fat cells. 
This mass is now placed in a stone pot and heated to 
the temperature of the igloo, when the oil slowly sepa- 
rates from the fibrous pork-like mass. Now, tallow from 
the suet of the reindeer or musk ox is secured, cut into 
blocks and given by the good housewife to her daugh- 
ters, who sit in the igloo industriously chewing it until 
the fat cells are crushed. This masticated mass is placed 
in a long stone pot over the oil flame, and the tallow 
reduced from it is run into the fishy oil of the walrus 
or seal previously prepared. 

This forms the body of native ice cream. For 
flavoring, the housewife has now a variety from which 
to select. This usually consists of bits of cooked meat, 
moss flowers and grass. Anticipating the absence of 
moss and grass in the winter, the natives, during the 
hunting season, take from the stomachs of reindeer and 
musk oxen which are shot, masses of partly digested 
grass which is preserved for winter use. This, which 
has been frozen, is now chipped in fragments, thawed, 
and, with bits of cooked meats, is added to the mixed 
fats. It all forms a paste the color of pistache, with oc- 
casional spots like crushed fruit. 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTEK 139 

The mixture is lowered to the floor of the igloo, 
which, in winter, is always below the freezing point, and 
into it is stirred snow water. The churned composite 
gradually brightens and freezes as it is beaten. When 
completed, it looks very much like ice cream, but it has 
the flavor of cod liver oil, with a similar odor. Never- 
theless, it has nutritive qualities vastly superior to our 
ice cream, and stomach pains rarely follow an engorge- 
ment. 

With much glee, the natives finished their Christ- 
mas repast with this so-called delicacy. For myself a 
tremendous feast was prepared, consisting of food left 
by the yacht and the choicest meat from the caches. My 
menu consisted of green turtle soup, dried vegetables, 
caviar on toast, olives, Alaskan salmon, crystallized po- 
tatoes, reindeer steak, buttered rice, French peas, apri- 
cots, raisins, corn bread, Huntley and Palmer biscuits, 
cheese and coffee. 

As I sat eating, I thought with much humor of 
the curious combinations of caviar and reindeer steak, 
of the absurd contradiction in eating green turtle soup 
beyond the Arctic circle. I ate heartily, with more 
gusto than I ever partook of delicious food in the Wal- 
dorf Astoria in my far-away home city. After dinner 
I took a long stroll on snow shoes. As I looked at the 
star-lamps swung in heaven, I thought of Broadway, 
with its purple-pale strings of lights, and its laughing 
merry-makers on this festive evening. 

I did not, I confess, feel lonely. I seemed to be 
getting something so much more wholesome, so much 
more genuine from the vast expanse of snow and the 
unhidden heavens which, in New York, are seldom seen. 



140 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Returning to the box-house, I ended Christmas evening 
with Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare as compan- 
ions. 

The box-house in which I lived was amply com- 
fortable. It did not possess the luxury of a civilized 
house, but in the Arctic it was palatial. The interior 
fittings had changed somewhat from time to time, but 
now things were arranged in a permanent setting. The 
little stove was close to the door. The floor measured 
sixteen feet in length and twelve feet in width. On one 
side the empty boxes of the wall made a pantry, on the 
other side were cabinets of tools, and unfinished sledge 
and camp material. 

With a step we rose to the next floor. On each 
side was a bunk resting on a bench. The bench was 
used as a bed, a work bench and seat. The long rear 
bench was utilized as a sewing table for the seamstresses 
and also for additional seating capacity. In the center 
was a table arranged around a post which supported 
the roof. Sliding shelves from the bunks formed table 
seats. A yacht lamp fixed to the post furnished ample 
light. There was no other furniture. All of our needs 
were conveniently placed in the open boxes of the wall. 

The closet room therefore was unlimited. In the 
boxes near the floor, in which things froze hard, the 
perishable supplies were kept. In the next tier there 
was alternate freezing and thawing. Here we stored 
lashings and skins that had to be kept moist. The tiers 
above, usually warm and dry under the roof, were used 
for various purposes. There, fresh meat in strips, dried 
crisp in three days. Talcing advantage of this, we had 
made twelve hundred pounds of dog pemmican from 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 141 

walrus meat. In the gable we placed furs and instru- 
ments. 

The temperature changed remarkably as the ther- 
mometer was lifted. On the floor in the lower boxes, 
it fell as low as — 20°. Under the bunks on the floor, it 
was usually —10°. The middle floor space was above 
the freezing point. At the level of the bunk the tem- 
perature was +48°. At the head, standing, +70°, and 
under the roof, — 105°. 

We contrived to keep perfectly comfortable. Our 
feet and legs were always dressed for low temperature, 
while the other portions of our body were lightly clad. 
There was not the usual accumulation of moisture ex- 
cept in the lower boxes, where it reinforced the founda- 
tion of the structure and did no harm. From the hy- 
gienic standpoint, with the material at hand, we could 
not have improved the arrangement. The ventilation 
was by small openings, mostly along the corners, which 
thus drew heat to remote angles. The value of the long 
stove pipe was made evident by the interior accumulation 
of ice. If we did not remove the ice every three or four 
days the draft was closed by atmospheric humidity con- 
densed from the draft drawn through the fire. From 
within, the pipe was also a splendid supplementary 
heater, as it led by a circuitous route about the vestibule 
before the open air was reached, thus keeping the work- 
shop somewhat warm. Two Eskimo lamps gave the 
added heat and light for the sledge builders. 

From Christmas Day until New Year's there were 
daily feasts for the natives. I luxuriated in a long rest, 
spending my time taking walks and reading. I got a 
sort of pleasure by proxy in watching the delight of these 



142 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

primal people in real food, food which, although to us 
horribly unpalatable, never gives indigestion. This 
period was one of real Christmas rejoicing in many snow 
homes, and the spirit, although these people had never 
heard of the Christ child, was more truly in keeping with 
this holiday than it often is in lands where, in ostenta- 
tious celebration, the real meaning is lost, 

Wandering from igloo to igloo, to extend greetings 
and thanks for their faithful work, I was often touched 
by the sounds of thin, plaintive voices in the darkness. 
Each time a pang touched my heart, and I remembered 
the time when I first heard my own baby girl's wee 
voice. The little ones had begun to arrive. The Eski- 
mo stork, at igloo after igloo, was leaving its Christmas 
gift. 

For some time before Christmas, Cla-you, easily 
our best seamstress, had not come for her assign- 
ment of sewing. To her had been given the delicate 
task of making hare skin stockings; but she had lost 
interest in needle-work and complained of not feeling 
well. E-ve-lue (Mrs. Sinue) was completing her task. 
Ac-po-di-soa (the big bird), Cla-you's husband, whom 
we called Bismark, had also deserted the bench where 
he had been making sledges. For his absence there was 
no explanation, for neither he nor his wife had ever 
shirked duties before. To solve the mystery I went to 
his igloo during Christmas week. There I first got 
news from the stork world. The boreal stork comes at 
a special season of the year, usually a few weeks after 
midnight when there is little else to interest the people. 
This season comes nine months after the days of 
budding passions in April, the first Arctic month of 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 143 

the year when all the world is happy. In the little 
underground home, the anticipated days of the stork 
visit were made interesting by a long line of prep- 
arations. 

A prospective mother is busy as a bee in a 
charming effort to make everything new for the 
coming little one. All things about must be absolutely 
new if possible. Even a new house must be built. This 
places the work of preparation quite as much on the 
father as on the mother. There is in all this a splendid 
lesson in primitive hygiene. 

To examine, first, the general home environment; 
there is a little girl four years old still taking nature's 
substitute for the bottle. She looks about for a mean- 
ing of all the changes about the home, but does not 
understand. You enter the new house on hands and 
knees through an entrance twelve or fifteen feet long, 
crowding upwards into an ever-open door just large 
enough to pass the shoulders. You rise into a dungeon 
oblong in shape. The rear two-thirds of this is raised 
about fifteen inches and paved with flat-rock. Upon 
this the furs are spread for a bed. The forward edge 
forms a seat. The space ahead of this is large enough 
for three people to stand at once. On each side there 
is a semi-circular bulge. In these are placed the cres- 
cent-shaped stone dishes, in which moss serves as a wick 
to burn blubber. Over this blubber flame, there is a 
long stone pot in which snow is melted for water and 
meats are occasionally cooked. Over this there is a 
drying rack for boots and furs. There is no other 
furniture. This house represents the home of the Eski- 
mo family at its best. Do what she will, the best house- 



144 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

wife cannot free it of oil and soot. It is not, indeed, a 
fit place for the immaculate stork to come. 

For months, the finest furs have been gathered to 
prepare a new suit for the mother. Slowly one article 
of apparel after another has been completed and put 
aside. The boots, called hamik, are of sealskin, bleached 
to a spotless cream color. They reach halfway up 
the thigh. The inner boot, called atesha, of soft caribou 
fur, is of the same length; along its upper edge there is 
a decorative run of white bear fur. The silky fur pads 
protect the tender skin of limb and foot, for no stock- 
ings are used. Above these, there are dainty little pants 
of white and blue fox, to protect the body to a point 
under the hips, and for protection above that there is a 
shirt of birdskins or aht-tee. This is the most delicate of 
all garments. Hundreds of little auk skins are gathered, 
chewed and prepared, and as the night comes the gar- 
ment is built blouse-shaped, with hood attached. It fits 
loosely. There are no buttons or openings. For the 
little one, the hood is enlarged and extended down the 
back, as the pocket for its future abode. The coat of 
fine blue fox skins, or amoyt, is of the same shape, but 
fits loosely over all. 

The word amoyt, or amoyt docsoa, in its applica- 
tion, also covers the entire range of the art and func- 
tion of pregnancy. This is regarded as an institution 
of the first order, second only to the art of the chase. 
All being ready for the mother, for the baby only a 
hood is provided, while bird-skins and grass are provided 
to take the place of absorbent cotton. For the first year, 
the child has absolutely no other wrap or cover but its 
little hood. 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 145 

The Eskimo loves children. If the stork does not 
come in due time, he is likely to change his life partner. 
For this reason he looks forward to the Christmas sea- 
son with eager anticipation. Seeking the wilds far and 
near for needed furs, in bitter winds and driving snows, 
he endures all kinds of hardships during the night of 
months for the sake of the expected child. Brave, good 
little man of iron, he fears nothing. * 

From a near-by bank of hard snow he cuts blocks 
for a new igloo. In darkness and wind he transports 
them to a point near the house. When enough have 
been gathered, he walls a dome like a bee-hive. The in- 
terior arrangement is like the winter underground home. 
The light is put into it. By this he can see the open 
cracks between snow blocks. These are filled in to keep 
wind and snow out. When all is completed, he cuts a 
door and enters. The bed of snow is flattened. 

Then he seeks for miles about for suitable grass 
to cover the cheerless ice floor. To get this grass, he 
must dig under fields of hardened snow. Even then he 
is not always rewarded with success. The sledge, loaded 
with frozen grass, is brought to the little snow dome. 
The grass is carefully laid on the bed of leveled snow. 
Over it new reindeer skins are spread. Now the new 
house of snow blocks in which the stork is to come is 
ready. 

As the stork's coming is announced the mother's 
tears give the signal. She goes to the new snowhouse 
alone. The father is frightened and looks serious. But 
she must tear herself away. With her new garments, 
she enters the dark chamber of the snowhouse, strikes 
a fire, lights the lamp. The spotless walls of snow are 



146 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

cheerful. The new things about give womanly pride. 
But life is hard for her. A soul-stirring battle follows 
in that den of ice. 

There is a little cry. But there is no doctor, no 
nurse, no one, not a kindly hand to help. A piece of 
glass is used as a surgical knife. Then all is over. There 
is no soap, no water. The methods of a mother cat are 
this mother's. Then, in the cold, cheerless chamber of 
ice, she fondly examines the little one. Its eyes are blue, 
but they turn brown at once when opened. Its hair 
is coal black, its skin is golden. It is turned over and 
over in the search for marks or blemishes. The 
mother's eyes run down along the tiny spine. At its 
end there is a blue shield-shaped blot like a tattoo mark. 
This is the Eskimo guarantee of a well-bred child. If 
it is there, the mother is happy, if not, there are doubts 
of the child's future, and of the purity of the parents. 
Now the father and the grandmother come. All re- 
joice. 

If misfortune at the time of birth befalls a mother, 
as is not infrequent, the snow mound becomes her grave; 
it is not opened for a long time. 

After a long sleep, into which the mother falls after 
her first joy, she awakes, turns over, drinks some ice- 
water, eats a little half -cooked meat, and then, shaking 
the frozen breath from the covers, she wraps herself 
and her babe snugly in furs. Again she sleeps, perhaps 
twenty-four hours, seemingly in perfect comfort, while 
the life-stilling winter winds drive over the feeble wall 
of snow which shelters her from the chilly death outside. 

One day during Christmas week there was a knock 
at our door. The proud Ac-po-di-soa walked in, fol- 



MIDNIGHT AND MID-WINTER 147 

lowed by his smiling wife, with the sleeping stork gift 
on her back. The child had been born less than five 
days before. We walked over and admired the little 
one. It suddenly opened its brown eyes, screwed up 
its little blubber nose, and wrinkled its chin for a cry. 
The mother grabbed her, plunged out of the door, 
pulled the undressed infant out, and in the wind and 
cold served the little one's want. 

New Year's Day came starlit and cold. The year 
had dawned in which I was to essay the task to which 
I had set myself, the year which would mean success or 
failure to me. The past year had been gracious and 
bountiful, so, in celebration, Francke prepared a feast 
of which we both ate to gluttonous repletion. This 
consisted of ox-tail soup, creamed boneless cod, pickles, 
scrambled duck eggs with chipped smoked beef, roast 
eider-duck, fresh biscuits, crystallized potatoes, creamed 
onions, Bayo beans and bacon, Malaga grapes, 
(canned), peach-pie, blanc-mange, raisin cake, Nabisco 
biscuits and steaming chocolate. 

The day was spent in making calls among the 
Eskimos. In the evening several families were given 
a feast which was followed by songs and dances. This 
hilarity was protracted to the early hours of morning 
and ended in an epidemic of night hysteria. When thus 
afflicted the victims dance and sing and fall into a trance, 
the combination of symptoms resembling insanity. 

In taking account of our stock we found that our 
baking powder was about exhausted. This was sad 
news, for a breakfast of fresh biscuits, butter and coffee 
was one of the few delights that remained for me in 
life. We had bicarbonate of soda, but no cream of 



148 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

tartar. I wondered whether we could not substitute for 
cream of tartar some other substance. 

Curious experiments followed. The juice of sauer- 
kraut was tried with good results. But the flavor, as a 
steady breakfast food, was not desirable. Francke had 
fermented raisins with which to make wine. As a wine 
it was a failure, but as a fruit acid it enabled us to make 
soda biscuits with a new and delicate flavor. Milk, we 
found, would also ferment. From the unsweetened 
condensed milk, biscuits were made that would please 
the palate of any epicure. My breakfast pleasure there- 
fore was still assured for many days to come. 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 

THE CAMPAIGN OPENS — LAST WEEKS OF THE POLAR 

NIGHT ADVANCE PARTIES SENT OUT AWAITING 

THE DAWN 

X 

The Start with Sunrise of 1908 

Two weeks of final tests and re-examination of 
clothing, sledges and general equipment followed the 
New Year's festivities. On January 14 there was 
almost an hour of feeble twilight at midday. The moon 
offered light enough to travel. Now we were finally 
ready to fire the first guns of the Polar battle. Scouts 
were outside, waiting for the signal to proceed. They 
were going, not only to examine the ice field for the 
main advance, but to offer succor to a shipwrecked crew, 
which the natives believed was at Cape Sabine. 

The smoke of a ship had been seen late in the fall, 
and much wood from a wrecked ship had been found. 
The pack was, therefore, loaded with expedition sup- 
plies, with instructions to offer help to anyone in want 
that might be found. 

I had just finished a note to be left at Cape 
Sabine, telling of our headquarters, our caches and 
our willingness to give assistance. This was handed to 
Koo-loo-ting-wah, standing before his restless dogs, 



150 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

whip in hand, as were his three companions, who volun- 
teered as scouts. They jumped on the sledges, and soon 
the dogs were rushing toward the Polar pack of Smith 
Sound. 

It was a beautiful day. A fold of the curtain of 
night had been lifted for a brief spell. A strong mixed 
light, without shadows, rested on the snow. It changed 
in quality and color with the changing mystery of the 
aurora. One might call it blue, or purple, or violet, or 
no color at all, according to the color perception of the 
observer. 

In the south the heavens glowed with the heralds 
of the advancing sun. The light was exaggerated by 
the blink of the ice over which the light was sent, for the 
brightness of the heavens was out of proportion to its 
illuminating effect upon the surface snows. In the 
north, the half -spent moon dispelled the usual blackness 
Poleward, while the zenith was lighted with stars of the 
first and second magnitude. 

The temperature was — 41° F. The weather was 
perfectly calm — all that could be expected for the im- 
portant event of opening the campaign. 

In the course of a few hours the cheerful light 
faded, the snows darkened to earthy fields, and out of 
the north came a smoky tempest. The snow soon piled 
up in tremendous drifts, making it difficult to leave the 
house without climbing new hills. The dogs tied about 
were buried in snow. Only the light passing through 
the membrane of intestines, which was spread over the 
ports to make windows for the native houses, relieved 
the fierce blackness. 

The run to Cape Sabine, under fine conditions, was 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 151 

about forty miles, and could be made in one day, but 
Smith Sound seldom offers a fair chance. Insufficient 
light, impossible winds or ice make the crossing haz- 
ardous at best. The Eskimos cross every year, but 
they are out so much after bears that they have a good 
knowledge of the ice before they start to reach the other 
shores. 

Coming from the north, with a low temperature 
and blowing snow, the wind would not only stop our 
scouts, but force the ice south, leaving open spaces of 
water. A resulting disruption of the pack might greatly 
delay our start with heavy sledges. Furthermore, 
there was real danger at hand for the advance. If the 
party had been composed of white men there surely 
would have been a calamity. But the Eskimo 
approaches the ventures of the wild with splendid endur- 
ance. Moreover, he has a weather intelligence which 
seldom finds him unprepared. 

At midnight of the second night the party returned. 
They were none the worse for the storm. The main 
intent of their mission had failed. The storm had forced 
them into snow embankments, and before it was quite 
spent a bear began to nose about their shelter places. 
The dogs were so buried with drift that they were not on 
watch until the bear had destroyed much of their food. 
Then their mad voices aroused the Eskimos. 

As they dug out of their shelter, the bear took a big 
walrus leg and walked off, man-like, holding the meat in 
his forepaws. In their haste to free the dogs, they cut 
their harness to pieces, for snow and ice cemented the 
creatures. Oo-tah ran out in the excitement to head 
off the bear — not to make an attack, but simply to stop 



152 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

his progress. The bear dropped the meat and grabbed 
Oo-tah by the seat of his trousers. The dogs, fortu- 
nately, came along in time to save Oo-tah's life, but he 
had received a severe leg wound, which required imme- 
diate surgical attention. 

The bear was captured, and with loads of bear meat 
and the wounded scout the party returned as quickly as 
possible. In the retreat it was noticed that the ice was 
very much broken. 

In the wreck of an Arctic storm there is always a 
subsequent profit for someone. The snow becomes 
crusted and hardened, making sledge travel easy. The 
breaking of the ice, which was a great hindrance to our 
advance, offered open water for walrus and bear hunt- 
ing. At this time we went to Serwahdingwah for the 
last chase. Some of the Eskimos took their families, 
so Annoatok became depopulated for a while. But on 
our return, visitors came in numbers too numerous for 
our comfort. 

Dogs and skins, bargained for earlier in the season, 
were now delivered. Each corps of excursionists re- 
quired some attention, for they had done noble work for 
the expedition. We gave them dinners and allowed 
them to sit about our stove with picture-books in hand. 

Another storm came, with still more violent force, 
a week later. This caused us much anxiety, for we 
counted on our people being scattered on the ice along 
the shores of Cape Alexander. In a storm this would 
probably be swept from the land and carried seaward. 
There was nothing that could be done except wait for 
news. Messengers of trouble were not long in reaching 
headquarters after the storm. None of the men were 




A MECCA OF MUSK OX ALONG EUREKA SOUND 
A NATIVE HELPER 
ah-we-lah's PROSPECTIVE WIFE 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 153 

on the ice, but a hurricane from the land had wrecked 
the camps. 

Our men suffered little, but many of the natives in 
neighboring villages were left without clothing or sleep- 
ing furs. In the rush of the storm the ice left the land, 
and the snowhouses were swept into the sea. Men and 
women, without clothing, barely escaped with their lives. 
Two of our new sledges, some dogs, and three suits of 
winter furs were lost. A rescue party with furs had to 
be sent to the destitute people. Fortunately, our people 
were well supplied with bed-furs, out of which new 
suits were made. 

Sledge loads of our furs were also coming north, 
and instructions were sent to use these for the urgent 
needs of the sufferers. Other things were sent from 
Annoatok, with returning excursionists, and in the 
course of a week the damage was replaced. But the 
loss was all on the expedition, and deprived many of the 
men in their northern journey of suitable sleeping-furs. 
Walruses were obtained after the storm, and the natives 
now had no fear of a famine of meat or fat. 

By the end of January most of the natives had re- 
turned, and new preparations were made for a second 
effort to cross the Sound. Francke asked to join the 
party, and prepared for his first camp outing. Four 
sledges were loaded with two hundred pounds each of 
expedition advance supplies. Four good drivers volun- 
teered to move the sledges to the American side. 

The light had gradually brightened, and the storms 
passed off and left a keen, cold air, which was as clear as 
crystal. But at best the light was still feeble, and could 
be used for only about four hours of each twenty-four. 



154 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

If, however, the sky remained clear, the moon and stars 
would furnish enough illumination for a full day's travel. 
There was a little flush of color in the southern skies, 
and the snows were a pale purple as the sledges groaned 
in their rush over the frosty surface. 

The second party started off as auspiciously as the 
first, and news of its luck was eagerly awaited. 

They reached Cape Sabine after a long run of 
twenty hours, making a considerable detour to the north. 
The ice offered good traveling, but the cold was bitter, 
the temperature being — 52° F., with light, extremely 
humid and piercing winds. 

Along the land and within the bays the snow was 
found to be deep, and a bitter wind came from the west. 
Two of the party could not be persuaded to go farther, 
but Francke, with two companions, pushed on for an- 
other day along the shore to Cape Veile. Beyond, the 
snow was too deep to proceed. The supplies were cached 
in a snowhouse, while those at Cape Sabine were left in 
the old camp. The party returned at the end of four 
days with their object accomplished. Nothing was seen 
of the rumored shipwrecked crew. 

The next party, of eight sledges, led by Es-se-you, 
Kud-la, and Me-tek, started on February 5. The 
object was to carry advance supplies to the head of 
Flagler Bay, and hunt musk ox to feed the sledge teams 
as they moved overland. We were to meet this party at 
an appointed place in the bay. 

The light was still too uncertain to risk the fortunes 
of the entire force. With a hundred dogs, a delay of a 
day would be an expensive loss, for if fed upon the care- 
fully guarded food of the advance stores, a rapid reduc- 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 155 

tion in supplies would follow, which could not be re- 
placed, even if abundant game were secured later. It 
was, therefore, desirable to await the rising sun. 

We made our last arrangements, fastened our last 
packs, and waited impatiently for the sunrise, here at 
this northernmost outpost of human life, just seven hun- 
dred miles from the Pole. And this was the problem 
that now insistently and definitely confronted us after 
the months of planning and preparation: Seven hun- 
dred miles of advance, almost a thousand miles as our 
route was planned; one thousand miles of return; two 
thousand miles in all; allowing for detours (for the line 
to be followed could not be precisely straight), more 
than two thousand miles of struggling travel across icy 
and unknown and uninhabitable wastes of moving ice. 

On the morning of February 19, 1908, 1 started on 
my trip to the North Pole. 

Early, as the first real day of the year dawned, 
eleven sledges were brought to the door of our box- 
house and lashed with supplies for the boreal dash. 
There were four thousand pounds of supplies for use on 
the Polar sea, and two thousands pounds of walrus skin 
and fat for use before securing the fresh game we antici- 
pated. The eleven sledges were to be driven by 
Francke, nine Eskimos, and myself. They were drawn 
by one hundred and three dogs, each in prime condi- 
tion. The dogs had been abundantly fed with walrus 
skin and meat for several weeks, and would now be fed 
only every second day on fresh supplies. 

My heart was high. I was about to start on the 
quest which had inspired me for many years! The 
natives were naturally excited. The dogs caught the 



156 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

contagious enthusiasm, and barked joyously. At eight 
o'clock in the morning our whips snapped, the spans of 
dog teams leaped forward, and we were off. 

My Polar quest had begun! 

Most of the tribe had seemed willing to go with 
me, and to take all their dogs, but the men and the dogs 
finally selected were the pick of the lot. All were in 
superb physical condition, this matter of condition 
being something that I had carefully looked out for dur- 
ing the winter months. I regard this as having been 
highly advantageous to me, that I have always been able 
to win the friendship and confidence of the Eskimos ; for 
thus I found them extremely ready to follow my advice 
and instructions, and to do in general anything I desired. 
That I could speak Eskimo fairly well — well enough to 
hold ordinary conversations — was also a strong asset in 
my favor. 

When we started, a few stars were seen between 
thin clouds, but the light was good. A soft wind came 
from the south; the temperature was — 36° F. The 
Greenland ice-cap was outlined; a belt of orange in the 
south heralded the rising sun. The snow still retained 
the purple of twilight. The ice was covered with about 
three inches of soft snow over a hard crust, which made 
speed difficult. Before noon the sky was gray, but the 
light remained good enough for traveling until 4 P. M. 
A course was made about northwest, because a more 
direct line was still impractical. 

A water sky to the west and south denoted open 
water. At 3 P. M. we ran into bear tracks, and the 
sledges bounced along as if empty. The tracks were 
making a good course for us, so the dogs were 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 157 

encouraged. By four o'clock the feeble light made it 
dangerous to proceed. Two hunters still followed the 
bear tracks, while the others built three snowhouses for 
camp. Nothing was seen of the bears. 

The dogs were tied to holes cut in the ice, and we 
crept into our snow-mounds, tired, hungry and sleepy. 
The night was extremely uncomfortable — the first 
nights from camp always are. 

The next day brought a still air with a temperature 
of — 42° F., and brilliant light at eight o'clock. We had 
made twenty miles through the air-line distance from 
Annoatok, and Cape Sabine was but thirty miles away. 
We had been forced so far north that we still had thirty 
miles before us to the Cape. The dogs, however, were in 
better trim, and we had no doubt about reaching the 
off-shores for the next camp. We followed the edge of 
ice which had been made in a wide open space in Decem- 
ber. Here the traveling was fairly level, but above was 
a hopeless jungle of mountains and ridges of ice. We 
made about three miles an hour, and were able to ride 
occasionally. 

At noon of February 20th we stopped, and coffee 
was served from our ever-hot coffee box. A can had 
been placed in a box, and so protected by reindeer skins 
that the heat was retained for twelve hours during the 
worst weather. This proved a great luxury. 

While we sat regaling ourselves, a great ball of fire 
rose along the icy horizon. Our hearts were glad. The 
weather was bitterly cold; the temperature was 51° F.: 
but the sun had risen ; the long night was at end. There 
was little else to mark the glory of sunrise. The light 
was no brighter than it had been for two hours. The 



158 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sky remained a purple blue, with a slight grayness in the 
south, darkening toward the horizon. The snows were 
purple, with just a few dashes of red in the road before 
us. This unpretentious burst of the sun opened our 
spirits to new delights. Even the dogs sat in graceful 
rows and sounded a chorus of welcome to the coming of 
the day. 

Although Cape Sabine, on February 20, was in 
sight, we still headed for Bache Peninsula. Im- 
possible ice and open water pushed us farther and far- 
ther north. It was three o'clock before the. Cape was 
seen over the dogs' tails. Soon after four the light 
failed, the land colored to purple and gold toward the 
rim of the horizon, and we were left to guess the direc- 
tion of our course. But Eskimos are somewhat better 
than Yankees at guessing, for we got into no troubles 
until 9 P. M., when we tried to scale the rafted ice 
against Cape Sabine. With only the camp equipment 
and dog food, the dogs crept up and down in the black 
hills of ice, while we followed like mountain-sheep. 

Here had been the camp of the ill-fated Greely 
expedition. It recurred to me that it was a curious whim 
of fate that this ill-starred camp of famine and death, in 
earlier days, should have marked the very outset of our 
modern effort to reach the Pole. But later we were to 
learn that under similar conditions a modern expedition 
can meet the same fate as that of the Lady Franklin 
Bay Expedition. 

We turned about, took the advance supplies, and 
picked a course through Rice Strait, to avoid the rough 
ice northward. Here the surface was good, but a light 
wind, with a temperature of — 52° F., came with great 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 159 

bitterness. The dogs refused to face the wind, and re- 
quired someone to lead the way. The men buried their 
faces .in the fur mittens, leaned on the upstanders, and 
ran along. 

Passing Cape Rutherford on February 22, we fol- 
lowed the coast. Here the wind came from the right, 
caught the tip of the nose, burning with a bleaching 
effect, which, in camp later, turned black. At Cape 
Veile the cache igloo was sighted, and there camp was 
pitched. 

In the morning the minimum thermometer regis- 
tered — 58° F. We were evidently passing from the 
storms and open water of Smith Sound, from warm, 
moist air to a still, dry climate, with very low tempera- 
ture. The day opened beautifully with a glow of rose 
to the south, which colored the snows in warm tones. 
At noon the sun showed half of its face over the cliffs 
as we crossed the bay and sought better ice along 
Bache Peninsula. That night we camped near the 
Weyprecht Islands. The day, although bright, proved 
severe, for most of the natives had frostbites about the 
face. Along Bache Peninsula we saw hares staring at 
us. Four were secured for our evening meal. In the 
very low temperature of — 64° F. the hunters suffered 
from injuries like burns, due to the blistering cold metal 
of their guns. 

Dog food had also to be prepared. In efforts to 
divide the walrus skin, two hatchets were broken. The 
Eskimo dog is a tough creature, but he cannot be ex- 
pected to eat food which breaks an axe. Petroleum and 
alcohol were used liberally, and during the night the 
skin was sufficiently softened by the heat to be cut with 



160 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the hatchets. This skin seems to be good food for the 
dogs. It is about one inch thick, and contains little 
water, the skin fibre being a kind of condensed nutri- 
ment, small quantities of which satisfy the dogs. It 
digests slowly, and therefore has lasting qualities. 

The lamps, burning at full force, made the igloos 
comfortable. The temperature fell to — 68° F. It was 
the first satisfying sleep of the journey for me. The 
economy of the blue fire stoves is beyond conception. 
Burning but three pounds of oil all night, the almost 
liquid air was reduced to a normal temperature of freez- 
ing point. 

Francke used alcohol stoves, with a double con- 
sumption of fuel. The natives, in their three igloos, 
used the copper lamp, shaped after the stone devices, 
but they did no cooking. 

In the morning of the 23d we heard sounds to the 
south, which at first we thought to be walrus. But after 
a time the noise was interpreted as that of the dogs of 
the advance party. They were camped a few miles 
beyond, and came to our igloos at breakfast. One musk 
ox and eleven hares had been secured. The valley had 
been thoroughly hunted, but no other game was sighted. 

The ground was nearly bare, and made sledge 
travel impossible. They were bound for Annoatok at 
once. This was sad news for us. We had counted on 
game with which to feed the dog train en route to the 
Polar sea. If animals were not secured, our project 
would fail at the very start, and this route would be im- 
possible. To push overland rapidly to the west coast 
was our only chance, but the report of insufficient snow 
seemed to forbid this. Something, however, must be 



EN ROUTE FOR THE POLE 161 

tried. We could not give up without a stronger fight. 
The strong probability of our failing to find musk ox, 
and extending the expedition for another year, over 
another route, made it necessary to send Francke back 
to headquarters to guard our supplies. There was no 
objection to the return of most of the other party, but 
we took their best dogs and sledges, with some exchange 
of drivers. 

With this change in the arrangements, and the ad- 
vance supplies from Cape Sabine and Cape Viele, each 
sledge now carried eight hundred pounds. Beyond, in 
Flagler Bay, the ice luckily became smooth and almost 
free of snow. An increased number of dogs, with good 
traveling, enabled us to make satisfactory progress, 
despite the steadily falling temperature. 

The head of Flagler Bay was reached late at night, 
after an exhausting march of twenty-five miles. A hard 
wind, with a temperature of — 60° F., had almost para- 
lyzed the dogs, and the men were kept alive only by 
running with the dogs. Comfortable houses were built 
and preparations made for a day of rest. On the mor- 
row we aimed to explore the land for an auspicious route. 
Many new frostbites were again noted in camp. One of 
the dogs died of the cold. 

The party was by no means discouraged, however. 
We were as enthusiastic as soldiers on the eve of a 
longed-for battle. The reduced numbers of the return 
party gave us extra rations to use in times of need, and 
the land did not seem as hopeless as pictured by the 
returning natives. A cache was made here of needful 
things for use on the return. Other things, which we 
had found useless, were also left here. 



EXPLORING A NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 

FROM THE ATLANTIC WATERS AT FLAGLER BAY TO THE 
PACIFIC "WATERS AT BAY FIORD — THE MECCA OF THE 

MUSK OX BATTLES WITH THE BOVINE MONSTERS OF 

THE ARCTIC — SUNRISE AND THE GLORY OF SUNSET 

XI 

Breaking a Trail Beyond the Haunts of Man 

Early in the morning of February 25 the dogs were 
spanned to sledges with heavy loads, and we pushed into 
the valley of mystery ahead. Our purpose was to cross 
the inland ice and descend into Cannon Bay. The 
spread of the rush of glacial waters in summer had dug 
out a wide central plain, now imperfectly covered with 
ice and snow. Over this we lined a trail. 

On each side of us were gradual slopes rising to 
cliffs, above which I noted the blue wall of the over- 
land sea of ice, at an altitude of about two thousand feet. 
Nowhere did this offer a safe slope for an ascent. We 
now explored the picturesque valley, for I knew that 
our only hope was to push overland to Bay Fiord. The 
easy slopes were enlivened with darting, downy hares. 
Some sat motionless, with their long ears erect, while 
they drank the first golden air of sunrise and watched 
the coming of new life. Others danced about in frisky 
play. 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 163 

As we pushed along, the ascent of the slope was 
gradual. The necessity for crossing from side to side 
to find ice or snow lengthened our journey. Only the 
partially bare earth gave us trouble. The temperature 
was — 62° F., but there was no wind. The upper slopes 
glittered with bright sunshine. Winding with a stream, 
we advanced twenty miles. Beyond there was the 
same general topography. The valley looked like a 
pass. Clouds of a different kind were seen through the 
gorges. At various places we noted old musk ox paths. 
I knew that where game trails are well marked on moun- 
tains one is certain to find a good crossing. This rule is 
equally good in the Arctic as elsewhere. At any rate, 
there was no alternative. The tortures of the top had to 
be risked. Pushing onward, we found no fresh signs of 
musk ox. A few bear tracks were seen, and a white fox 
followed us to camp. We shot sixteen hares, and for the 
evening meal unlimited quantities of savory hare meat 
made an appetizing broth. 

On the day following, everything was advanced to 
this point. A prolonged search for musk ox was made, 
with negative results. 

On the morning of the 27th, full loads were taken 
on our sledges. With slow progress we advanced on the 
rising bed of the stream, the valley moved, and the river 
ice was found in one channel, making better travel. 
Hare and fox tracks increased in number. The side 
slopes were grassy, and mostly swept bare of snow by 
strong winter winds. Sand dunes and gravel lines were 
also piled up, while huge drifts of pressed snow indi- 
cated a dangerous atmospheric agitation. Here, I 
knew, were excellent feeding grounds for musk ox and 



164 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

caribou. But a careful scrutiny gave no results for a 
long time. 

To us the musk ox was now of vital importance. 
The shorter way, over Schley Land and northward 
through Nansen Sound, was possible only if game in 
abundance was secured en route. If the product of 
the chase gave us no reward, then our Polar venture was 
doomed at the outset. 

One day, with a temperature of — 100° below the 
freezing point, and with a light but sharp Arctic wind 
driving needles of frost to the very bone, we searched 
the rising slopes of ice-capped lands in the hope of 
spotting life. 

For three days the dogs had not been fed. They 
sniffed the air, searched the horizon, and ranged the 
wilds with all the eagerness of their wolf progenitors. 
The hare and the fox were aroused from their winter's 
sleep, but such game was not what we now desired. 
Only meat and fat in heaps could satisfy the wants of 
over a hundred empty stomachs. 

After a hard pull, ascending miniature, ice-cov- 
ered hills, winding about big, polished boulders, we 
entered a wider section of the narrow gorge-like valley. 
Here the silurian rocks had broken down, and by the 
influence of glacier streams and glaciers, now receding, 
a good deal of rolling, grass-covered land spread from 
cliff to cliff . Strong winter gales had bared the ground. 
We sat down to rest. The dogs did likewise. 

All searched the new lands with eager eyes. The 
dog noses pointed to a series of steep slopes to the 
north. They were scenting something, but were too 
tired to display the usual animation of the chase. Soon 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 165 

we detected three dark, moving objects on a snowy sun- 
flushed hill, under a huge cliff, about a thousand feet 
above us. "Ah-ming-mah!" shouted E-tuk-i-shook. 
The dogs jumped; the men grasped glasses; in a second 
the sledge train was in disorder. 

Fifty dogs were hitched to three sledges. Rushing 
up three different gulches, the sledges, with tumbling 
human forms as freight, advanced to battle. The musk 
oxen, with heads pointed to the attacking forces, quietly 
awaited the onrush. 

Within an hour three huge, fat carcasses were down 
in the river bed. A temporary camp was made, and 
before the meat froze most of it had passed palates 
tantalized by many days of gastronomic want. 

Continuing our course, we crossed the divide in a 
storm. Beyond, in a canyon, the wind was more uncom- 
fortable than in the open. Something must be done. 
We could not long breathe that maddening air, weighted 
by frost and thickened by snows. The snow-bank gave 
no shelter whatever, and a rush of snow came over, 
which quickly buried the investigators. But it was our 
only hope. 

"Dig a hole," said Koo-loo-ting-wah. 

Now, to try to dig a hole without a shovel, and with 
snow coming more rapidly than any power of man 
could remove, seemed a waste of needed vital force. 
But I had faith in the intelligence of my savage com- 
panions, and ordered all hands to work. They gathered 
at one corner of the bank, and began to talk and shout, 
while I allowed myself to be buried in a pocket of the 
cliffs to keep my tender skin from turning to ice. Every 
few minutes someone came along to see if I was safe. 



166 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The igloo was progressing. Two men were now 
inside. In the course of another hour they reported 
four men inside ; in another hour seven men were inside, 
and the others were piling up the blocks, cut with knives 
from the interior. A kind of vestibule was made to 
allow the wind to shoot over the entrance. Inside, the 
men were sweating. 

Soon afterward I was told that the igloo was com- 
pleted. I lost no time in seeking its shelter. A square 
hole had been cut, large enough for the entire party if 
packed like sardines. Our fur clothing was removed, 
and beaten with sticks and stones. 

The lamps sang cheerily of steaming musk ox 
steaks. The dogs were brought into the canyon. A 
more comfortable night was impossible. We were fifty 
feet under the snow. The noise of the driving storm 
was lost. The blinding drift about the entrance was 
effectually shut out by a block of snow as a door. Two 
holes afforded ventilation, and the tremendous differ- 
ence between the exterior and the interior air assured 
a circulation. 

When we emerged in the morning the sky was 
clear. A light wind came from the west, with a tem- 
perature of — 78° F. Two dogs had frozen during the 
storm. All were buried in the edge of a drift that was 
piled fifteen feet. An exploration of the canyon showed 
other falls and boulders impossible for sledge travel. 

A trail was picked over the hills to the side. The 
day was severe. How we escaped broken legs and 
smashed sleds was miraculous. But somehow, in our 
plunges down the avalanches, we always landed in a 
soft bed of snow, We advanced about ten miles, and 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 167 

made a descent of five hundred feet, first camping upon 
a glacial lake. 

The temperature now was — 79° F., and although 
there were about nine hours of good light, including twi- 
light, we had continued our efforts too long, and were 
forced to build igloos by moonlight. Glad were we, 
indeed, when the candle was placed in the dome of snow, 
to show the last cracks to be stuffed. 

In the searchlight of the frigid dawn I noticed that 
our advance was blocked by a large glacier, which tum- 
bled barriers of ice boulders into the only available line 
for a path. A way would have to be cut into this bar- 
rier of icebergs for about a mile. This required the full 
energy of all the men for the day. I took advantage of 
the halt to explore the country through which we were 
forcing a pass. The valley was cut by ancient glaciers 
and more modern creeks along the meeting line of two 
distinct geological formations. To the north were 
silurian and cambro-silurian rocks; to the south were 
great archsan cliffs. 

With the camera, the field-glass, and other instru- 
ments in the sack, I climbed into a gorge and rose to the 
level of the mountains of the northern slopes. The 
ground was here absolutely destitute of vegetation, and 
only old musk ox trails indicated living creatures. The 
snow had all been swept into the ditches of the low- 
lands. Climbing over frost-sharpened stones, I found 
footing difficult. 

The average height of the mountains proved to be 
nineteen hundred feet. To the northeast there was land 
extending a few miles further, with a gradual rising 
slope. Beyond was the blue edge of the inland ice. To 



168 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the northwest, the land continued in rolling hills, beyond 
which no land-ice was seen. The cliffs to the south were 
of about the same height, but they were fitted to the 
crest with an ice-cap. The overflow of perpetual snows 
descended into the gorges, making five overhanging 
glaciers. 

The first was at the divide, furnishing in summer 
the waters which started the vigorous stream to the 
Atlantic slopes. It was a huge stream of ice, about a 
mile wide, and it is marked by giant cliffs, separated by 
wide gaps, indicating the roughness of the surface over 
which it pushes its frozen height. To the stream to 
which it gives birth, flowing eastward from the divide, 
I will give the name of Schley River, in honor of Rear- 
Admiral Schley. 

The stream starting westward from the divide, 
through picturesque rocks, tumbles in icy falls into a 
huge canyon, down to the Pacific waters at Bay Fiord. 
To this I will give, in honor of General A. W. Greely, 
the name Greely River. 

The second and third glaciers were overhanging 
masses about a half-mile wide, which gave volume in 
summer time to Greely River. 

The fourth was a powerful glacier, with a discharg- 
ing face of blue three miles long, closing up a valley 
and damming up a lake about four miles long and one 
mile wide. The lake was beyond the most precipitous 
of the descending slopes. The upper cliffs of the walled 
valley to Flagler Bay were still visible, while to the west 
was seen a line of mountains and cliffs which marked the 
head of Bay Fiord, under which was seen the ice cover- 
ing the first water of the Pacific upon which our future 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 169 

fortunes would be told. To this sea level there was an 
easy descent of four hundred feet on the river ice and 
snowdrifts, making, with good luck, a day's run of 
twenty miles. 

Returning, at camp I was informed that not only 
had a trail been cut, but many of the sledges had been 
advanced to the good ice beyond. Two of the sledges, 
however, had been badly broken, and must be mended 
at dawn before starting. 

The day was beautiful. For the first time I felt 
the heat of the sun. It came through the thick fur of 
my shoulders with the tenderness of a warm human 
hand. The mere thought of the genial sunbeams 
brought a glow of healthful warmth, but at the same 
time the thermometer was very low, — 78%° F. One's 
sense of cold, under normal conditions, is a correct in- 
strument in its bearing upon animal functions, but as an 
instrument of physics it makes an unreliable thermom- 
eter. If I had been asked to guess the temperature of 
the day I should have placed it at — 25° F. 

The night air had just a smart of bitterness. The 
igloo failed to become warm, so we fed our internal fires 
liberally with warming courses, coming in easy stages. 
We partook of superheated coffee, thickened with sugar, 
and biscuits, and later took butter chopped in squares, 
which was eaten as cheese with musk ox meat chopped 
by our axes into splinters. Delicious hare loins and 
hams, cooked in pea soup, served as dessert. 

The amount of sugar and fat which we now con- 
sumed was quite remarkable. Fortunately, during the 
journey to the edge of the Polar sea, there was no 
urgent limit to transportation, and we were well sup- 



170 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

plied with the luxury of sugar and civilized foods, most 
of which later were to be abandoned. 

In this very low temperature I found considerable 
difficulty in jotting down the brief notes of our day's 
doings. The paper was so cold that the pencil barely 
left a mark. A few moments had to be spent warming 
each page and pencil before beginning to write. With 
the same operation, the fingers were also sufficiently 
warmed to hold the pencil. All had to be done by the 
light and heat of a candle. 

To economize fuel, the fires later were extinguished 
before retiring to sleep. In the morning we were buried 
in the frost falling from our own breath. 

It was difficult to work at dawn with fur-covered 
hands; but the Eskimo can do much with his glove- 
fitting mitten. The broken sledges were soon repaired. 
After tumbling over irregular ice along the face of the 
glacier, the river offered a splendid highway over which 
the dogs galloped with remarkable speed. We rode 
until cold compelled exercise. The stream descended 
among picturesque hills, but the most careful scrutiny 
found no sign of life except the ever-present musk ox 
trails of seasons gone by. 

As we neared the sea line, near the mouth of the 
river, we began to see a few fresh tracks of hare and 
musk ox. Passing out on the south of Bay Fiord, we 
noted bear and wolf tracks. Then the eyes of the hunter 
and the dog rolled with eager anticipation. 

The sun flushed the skies in flaming colors as it was 
about to sink behind a run of high peaks. The western 
sky burned with gold, the ice flashed with crimson inlets, 
but the heat was very feeble. The temperature was 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 171 

— 72° F. We had already gone twenty-five miles, and 
were looking forward to a point about ten miles beyond 
as the next camping place, when all my companions, 
seemingly at once, espied a herd of musk ox on the sky 
line of a whale-backed mountain to the north. 

The distance was about three miles, but the eagle 
eyes of the natives detected the black spots. 

We searched the gorge with our glasses. Suddenly 
one of the Eskimos cried out in a joyous tone: "Ah- 
ming-ma! Ah-ming-ma!" 

I could detect only some dark specks on the snow, 
which looked like a hundred others that I knew to be 
rocks. I levelled my glasses on the whale-backed moun- 
tain at which the Eskimo was staring, and, sure enough, 
there were three musk oxen on a steep snow slope. 
They seemed to be digging up the winter snow fields 
to get "scrub" willows. They were not only three miles 
away, but at an altitude of perhaps a thousand feet 
above us. 

The cumbersome loads were quickly pitched from 
three sledges. Rifles and knives were securely fastened. 
In a few moments the long lashes snapped, and away 
we rushed, with two men on each of the sledges and 
with double teams of twenty dogs. 

The dogs galloped at a pace which made the sledges 
bound like rubber balls over irregularities of rocks, slip- 
pery ice, and hard-crusted snow, and our hold tightened 
on the hickory in the effort to keep our places. It dis- 
turbed the dogs not at all whether they were on rock or 
snow, or whether the sledge rested on runners or turned 
spirally; but it made considerable difference to us, and 
we lost much energy in the constant efforts to avoid 



172 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

somersaults. We did not dare release our grip for a 
moment, for to do so would have meant painful bump- 
ing and torn clothes, as well as being left behind in the 
chase. 

It took but a brief time to cover the three miles. 
We made our final advance by three separate ravines, 
and for a time the musk oxen were out of sight. When 
we again saw them they had not taken the alarm, nor 
did they until we were ready to attack them from three 
separate points. 

All but five dogs from each sledge were now freed 
from harness. They darted toward the oxen with fierce 
speed. 

The oxen tried to escape through a ravine, but it 
was too late. The dogs were on every side of them, and 
all the oxen could do was to grunt fiercely and jump 
into a bunch, with tails together and heads directed at 
the enemy. There were seven musk oxen in all, and they 
tried to keep the dogs scattered at a safe distance. 

The dogs would rush up to within a few feet, show- 
ing their teeth and uttering wolfish sounds, and every 
now and then an ox would rush out from its circle, with 
head down, in an effort to strike the dogs ; but the dogs 
were always too quick to be caught by the savage thrust, 
and each time the ox, in its retreat, would feel canine 
fangs closing on its haunches. 

After a few such efforts, the bulls, with lowered 
horns, merely held to the position, while the dogs, not 
daring actually to attack under such circumstances, sat 
in a circle and sent up blood-chilling howls. Meanwhile, 
the Eskimos and myself were hurrying up. 

The strife was soon over. I snapped my camera at 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 173 

an old bull which at that moment broke through the 
dogs and, followed by a group of them, was driven 
madly over a cliff in a plunge of five thousand feet. The 
other oxen were soon killed by the hunters. 

The sun settled under mountains of ice, and the 
purple twilight rapidly thickened. It was very cold. 
The breath of each man came like jets of steam from a 
kettle. The temperature was now — 81 °F. No time 
could be lost in dressing the game. But the Eskimos 
were equal to the task, and showed such skill as only 
Indians possess. 

While this was being done by my companions, I 
strolled about to note the ear-marks of the home of the 
musk ox. The mountain was in line of the sweep of the 
winds, and was bared of snows. Here were grass, 
mosses, and creeping willows in abundance, descending 
into the gullies. I found fossil-stumps of large trees 
and bits of lignite coal. The land in pre-glacial times 
had evidently supported a vigorous vegetation ; but now 
the general aspect offered a scene of frosty hopelessness. 
Still, in this desolation of snowy wastes, nature had sup- 
plied creatures with food in their hard pressure of life. 

Fox and wolf tracks were everywhere, while on 
every little eminence sat an Arctic hare, evincing ear- 
upraised surprise at our appearance. With the glasses 
I noted on neighboring hills three other herds of musk 
ox. This I did not tell the hunters, for they would not 
have rested until all were secured. Living in a land of 
cold and hunger, the Eskimo is insatiable for game. We 
had as much meat as we could possibly use for the next 
few days, and it was much easier to fill up, and secure 
more when we needed it, than now to carry almost im- 



174 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

possible loads. In a remarkably short time the skins 
were removed and the meat was boned and cut in small 
strips in such a way that the axe would break it when 
frozen. Neatly wrapped in skins, the loads did not 
seem large. 

Selecting a few choice bits for later use, the bal- 
ance was separated and allowed to cool. I looked at the 
enormous quantity of meat, and wondered how it could 
be transported to camp, but no such thought troubled 
the Eskimos. Piece after piece went down the canine 
throats with a gulp. No energy was wasted in masti- 
cation. With a drop of the jaws and a twist of the neck, 
the task of eating was finished and the stomach began to 
spread. The dogs had not yet reached their limit when 
the snow was cleared of its weight of dressed meat and 
a canine wrangle began for the possession of the cleaned 
bones. 

With but little meat on the sledges, we began the 
descent, but the spirit of the upward rush was lost. 
The dogs, too full to run, simply rolled down the slopes, 
and we pushed the sledges ourselves. The ox that had 
made the death plunge was picked up and taken as 
reserve meat. It was midnight before camp was 
pitched. The moon burned with a cheerful glow. The 
air was filled with liquid frost, but there was no wind 
and consequently no suffering from cold. 

Two comfortable snowhouses were built, and in 
them our feasts rivalled the canine indulgence. Thus 
was experienced the greatest joy of savage life in boreal 
wilds — the hunt of the musk ox, with the advantage of 
the complex cunning gathered by forgotten ages. The 
balance of the meat left after our feast was buried, with 



EXPLORING NEW PASS OVER ACPOHON 175 

the protecting skins, in the snow. On opening the meat 
on the following morning, it was still warm, although 
the minimum thermometer registered ■ — 80° F. for the 
night. 

A few minutes before midday, on our next march, 
the sledge train halted. We sat on the packs, and, 
with eyes turned southward, waited. Even an Eskimo 
has an eye for color and a soul for beauty. To us there 
appeared a play of suppressed light and bleached color 
tints, as though in harmony with bars of music, which 
inspired my companions to shouts of joy. 

Slowly and majestically the golden orb lifted. The 
dogs responded in low, far-reaching calls. The Eskimos 
greeted the day god with savage chants. The sun, a 
flushed crimson ball, edged along the wintry outline of 
the mountains' purplish snowy glitter. The pack was 
suddenly screened by a moving sheet of ever-changing 
color, wherein every possible continuation of purple and 
gold merged with rainbow hues. 

Soon the dyes changed to blue, and eventually the 
sky was fired by flames of red. Then, slowly, the great 
blazing globe sank into seas of fire-flushed ice. The 
snowy mountains about glowed with warm cheer. The 
ice cooled again to purple, and again to blue, and then 
a winter blackness closed the eye to color and the soul 
to joy. 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 

SVERDRUP's NEW WONDERLAND — FEASTING ON GAME EN 
ROUTE TO SVARTEVOEG FIRST SHADOW OBSERVA- 
TIONS — FIGHTS WITH WOLVES AND BEARS THE JOYS 

OF ZERO'S LOWEST — THRESHOLD OF THE UNKNOWN 

XII 

Shores of the Polar Sea 

March 2 was bright and clear and still. The ice 
was smooth, with just snow enough to prevent the dogs 
cutting their feet. The heavy sledges bounded along 
easily, but the dogs were too full of meat to step a lively 
pace. The temperature was — 79° F. We found it 
comfortable to walk along behind the upstanders of the 
sledges. Some fresh bear tracks were crossed. These 
denoted that bears had advanced along the coast on an 
exploring tour, much as we aimed to do. Scenting 
these tracks, the dogs forgot their distended stomachs, 
and braced into the harness with full pulling force. We 
were still able to keep pace by running. Hard exer- 
cise brought no perspiration. 

After passing the last land point, we noted four 
herds of musk oxen. The natives were eager to embark 
for the chase. I tried to dissuade them, but, had we not 
crossed the bear trail, no word of mine would have kept 
them from another chase of the musk ox. 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 177 

Long after sunset, as we were about to camp, a bear 
was sighted advancing on us behind a line of hummocks. 
The light was already feeble. It was the work of but a 
minute to throw our things on the ice and start the teams 
on the scent of the bear. But this bear was thin and 
hungry. He gave us a lively chase. His advance was 
checked, however, as our rush began, and he spread his 
huge paws into a step which outdistanced our dogs. 
The chase was continued on the ice for about three miles. 
Then bruin, with sublime intelligence, took to the land 
and the steep slopes, leading us over hilly, bare ground, 
rocks, and soft snows. He gained the top of the tall 
cliffs while we were still groping in the darkness among 
the rocks at the base, a thousand feet below. 

The sledges were now left, and the dogs freed. 
They flew up a gully in which the bear tracks guided an 
easy path. In a short time their satisfying howls told 
of the bear's captivity. He had taken a position on 
a table-rock, which was difficult for the dogs to climb. 
At an easy distance from this rock were steep slopes of 
snow. One after another, the dogs came tumbling 
down these slopes. With but a slight cuff of his paw, 
the bear could toss the attacking dogs over dizzy heights. 
His position was impregnable to the dogs, but, thus 
perched, he was a splendid mark for E-tuk-i-shook. That 
doughty huntsman raised his gun, and, following a shot, 
the bear rolled down the same slopes on which he had 
hurled the dogs. To his carcass a span of strong dogs 
were soon hitched, and it was hauled down to the sea 
level. Quickly dressed and distributed, the bear was 
only a teasing mouthful to the ever-hungry dogs. 

It was nearly midnight before we returned to our 



178 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sledge packs. The work of building the houses was 
rendered difficult by the failing moon and the very low 
temperature. The lowest temperature of the season, 
— 83°, was reached this night. 

The sun rose in the morning of March 3 with warm 
colors, painting the crystal world surrounding us with 
gorgeous tints of rose and old gold. It was odd that 
in the glare of this enrapturing glory we should note the 
coldest day of the year. 

With the returning sun in the Arctic comes the 
most frigid season. The light is strongly purple, and 
one is tempted to ascribe to the genial rays a heating 
influence which is as yet absent, owing to their slant. 
The night-darkened surfaces prevent the new sun- 
beams from disseminating any considerable heat, and the 
steadily falling temperature indicates that the crust of 
the earth, as a result of its long desertion by the sun in 
winter, is still unchecked in its cooling. Because of the 
persistence of terrestrial radiation, we have the coldest 
weather of the year with the ascending sun. 

It is a fortunate provision of nature that these icy 
days of the ascending sun are usually accompanied by a 
breathless stillness. When wind and storms come, the 
temperature quickly rises. It is doubtful if any form 
of fife could withstand a storm at — 80° F. A quiet 
charm comes with this eye-opening period. The spirits 
rise with indescribable gladness, and, although the mer- 
cury is frozen, the body, when properly dressed, is per- 
fectly comfortable. The soft light of purple and gold, 
or of lilac and rose, on the snowy slopes, dispels the 
chronic gloom of the long night, while the tonic of a 
brightening air of frost returns the flush to the pale 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 179 

cheeks. The stillness adds a charm, with which the 
imagination plays. It is not the music of silence, nor 
the gold solitude of summer, nor the deathlike stillness 
of the winter blackness. It is the stillness of zero's 
lowest, which has a beauty of its own. 

The ice pinnacles are lined with hoar frost, on 
which there is a play of rainbow colors. The tread of 
one's feet is muffled by feathery beds of snow. The 
mountains, raised by the new glow of light or outlined 
by colored shadows, stand against the brightened 
heavens in sculptured magnificence. 

The bear admires his shadow, the fox peeps from 
behind his bushy tail, devising a new cult, for his art of 
night will soon be a thing of the past. The hare sits, 
with forelegs bent reverently, as if offering prayers of 
gratitude. The musk ox stands in the brightest sun, with 
his beautiful coat of black and blue, and absorbs the first 
heaven-given sun bath, and man soars high in dreams of 
happiness. 

Shadows always attract the eye of primitive people 
and children. In a world such as the one we were invad- 
ing, with little to rest the eye from perpetual glitter, they 
were to become doubly interesting. When we first 
began observing our shadows, on March 3, I did not 
dream that a thing so simple could rise to the dignity 
of a proof of the Polar conquest. But, since then, I have 
come to the conclusion that, if a proof of this much-dis- 
cussed problem is at all possible, it is in the corroborative 
evidence of just such little things as shadows. 

Accordingly, I have examined every note and im- 
pression bearing on natural phenomena en route. 

To us, in our daily marches from Bay Fiord, the 



180 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

shadow became a thing of considerable interest and im- 
portance. The Eskimo soul is something apart from 
the body. The native believes it follows in the shadow. 
For this reason, stormy, sunless days are gloomy times 
to the natives, for the presence of the soul is then not in 
evidence. The night has the same effect, although the 
moon often throws a clear-cut shadow. The native be- 
lieves the soul at times wanders from the body. When 
it does this, the many rival spirits, which in their system 
of beliefs tenant the body, get into all sorts of trouble. 

Every person, and every animal, has not only a soul 
which guards its destiny, but every part of the body has 
an individual spirit — the arm, the leg, the nose, the eye, 
the ear, and every other conceivable part of the anatomy, 
with a peculiar individuality, throbs with a separate life. 
The separate, wandering soul in the shadow is the guid- 
ing influence. 

Furthermore, there is no such conception as an 
absolutely inanimate thing. The land, the sea, the air, 
ice, and snow, have great individual spirits that ever 
engage in battle with each other. Even mountains, val- 
leys, rocks, icebergs, wood, iron, fire — all have spirits. 
All of this gives them a keen interest in shadows in an 
otherwise desert of gloom and death. 

Their entire religious creed would require a long 
time to work out. Even that part of it which is repre- 
sented by the shadow is quite beyond me. As I ob- 
served in our following marches toward Svartevoeg, 
their keen eyes detect in shadows incidents and messages 
of life, histories that would fill volumes. The shadow is 
long or short, clear-cut or vague, dark or light, blue or 
purple, violet or black. Each phase of it has a special 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 181 

significance. It presages luck or ill-luck on the chase, 
sickness and death in the future, the presence or unrest 
of the souls of parted friends. Even the souls of the 
living sometimes get mixed. Then there is love or in- 
trigue. All the passions of wild life can be read from 
the shadows. The most pathetic shadows had been the 
vague, ghastly streaks of black that followed the body- 
about a week before sunset in October. At that time 
all the Arctic world is sad, and tears come easily. 

The shadow does not quickly come back with the 
returning sun. Continuous storms so screen the sun- 
beams that only a vague, diffused light reaches the long 
night-blackened snows. When the joy of seeing the 
first shadows exploded among my companions I did not 
know just what intoxication infected the camp. With 
full stomachs of newly acquired musk ox loins, we had 
slept. Suddenly the sun burst through a maze of burn- 
ing clouds and made our snow palace glow with electric 
darts. The temperature was very low. Only half- 
dressed, the men rushed out, dancing with joy. 

Their shadows were long, sharp-cut, and of a deep, 
purple blue. They danced with them. This brought 
them back to the normal life of Eskimo hilarity. Then 
followed the pleasures of the thrill of the sunny days of 
crystal air and blinding sparkle during never-to-be 
forgotten days of the enervating chill of zero's lowest at 
—83° F. 

In the northward progress, for a long time the 
shadows did not perceptibly shorten or brighten to my 
eyes. The natives, however, on our subsequent marches, 
got from these shadows a never-ending variety of topics 
to talk about. They foretold storms, located game, and 



182 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

read the story of respective home entanglements of the 
Adamless Eden which we had left far away on the 
Greenland shore. 

Our bear adventures took us on an advance trail 
over which progress was easy. Beyond, the snow in- 
creased rapidly in depth with every mile. Snowshoes 
were lashed to our feet for the first mile. We halted in 
our march at noon, attacked suddenly by five wolves. 
The rifles were prepared for defense. No shots were to 
be fired, however, unless active battle was commenced. 
The creatures at close range were slightly cream-colored, 
with a little gray along their backs, but at a greater dis- 
tance they seemed white. They came from the moun- 
tains, with a chilling, hungry howl that brought shivers. 
The dogs were interested, but made no offer to give 
chase. 

The wolves passed the advancing sledges at a dis- 
tance, and gathered about the rear sledge, which was 
separated from the train. The driver turned his team 
to help in the fight. As the sledges neared, the teams 
were stopped, the wolves sat down and delivered a mad- 
dening chorus of chagrin. The dogs were restless, but 
only wiggled their tails. The men stood still, with 
rifles pointed. The chorus ended. The battle was de- 
clared off. Seeing that they were outnumbered, the 
howling creatures turned and dashed up the snowy 
slopes, from which they had come, with a storming rush. 
The train was lined up, and through the deep snow we 
plowed westward. 

In two difficult marches we reached Eureka 
Sound. 

Wolves continued on our trail nearly every day 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 183 

along the west coast of Acpohon, and also along North 
Devon. 

In the extreme North, the wolf, like the fox, is pure 
white, with black points to the ears, and spots over the 
eyes. In the regions farther south his fur is slightly 
gray. In size, he is slightly larger than the Eskimo 
dog, his body longer and thinner, and he travels with his 
tail down. Like the bear, he is a ceaseless wanderer 
during all seasons of the year. 

In winter, wolves gather in groups of six or eight, 
and attack musk ox, or anything in their line of march. 
But in summer they travel in pairs, and become scaven- 
gers. The wolf is alert in estimating the number of his 
combatants and their fighting qualities. Men and dogs 
in numbers he never approaches within gunshot, con- 
tenting himself by howling piercingly from mountains 
at a long distance. When a single sledge was separated 
from the others, he would approach to an uncomfortable 
range. 

Bear tracks were also numerous. We were, how- 
ever, too tired to give chase. Close to a cape where we 
paused, on Eureka Sound, to cut snow-blocks for igloos 
attached to the sledges, E-tuk-i-shook noted two bears 
wandering over the lands not far away. Watching for 
a few moments with the glasses, we noted that they were 
stalking a sleeping musk ox. Now we did not care par- 
ticularly for the bears, but the musk ox was regarded as 
our own game, and we were not willing to divide it 
knowingly. The packs were pitched into the snow, and 
the dogs rushed through deep snow, over hummocks 
and rocks, to the creeping bears. 

As the bears turned, the rear attack seemed to offer 



184 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sport, and they rose to meet us. But as one team after 
the other bounced over the nearest hills, their heads 
turned and they rushed up the steep slopes. We now 
saw twenty musk oxen asleep in scattered groups. 
These interested us more than the bears. The dogs 
were seemingly of the same mind, for they required no 
urging to change the noses from the bears to the 
musk oxen. 

As we wound around the hill upon which they 
rested, all at once arose, shook off the snow, rubbed their 
horns on their knees, and then formed a huge star. In 
a short time the entire herd was ours. The meat was 
dressed, wrapped in skins, the dogs lightly fed, and the 
carcasses hauled to camp. Then we completed our 
igloos. Bears and wolves wandered about camp all 
night, but with one hundred dogs, whose eyes were on 
the swelled larder, there was no danger from wild 
brutes. 

Early in the morning of March 4 we were awakened 
by a furious noise from the dogs. Koo-loo-ting-wah 
peeked out and saw a bear in the act of taking a choice 
strip of tenderloin from the meat. With a deft cut of the 
knife, a falling block of snow made a window, and 
through it the rifle was leveled at the animal. He was 
big, fat, and gave us just the blubber required for our 
lamps. 

A holiday was declared. It would take time to 
stuff the dogs with twenty musk oxen and a bear. Fur- 
thermore, our clothing needed attention. Boots, mit- 
tens, and stockings had to be dried and mended. Some 
of our garments were torn in places, permitting winds 
to enter. Much of the dog harness required fixing. 




THE CAPTURE OF A BEAR 
ROUNDING UP A HERD OF MUSK OXEN 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 185 

The Eskimos' sledges had been slightly broken. Later, 
the same day, another herd of twenty musk oxen 
were seen. Now even the Eskimo's savage thirst 
for blood was satisfied. The pot was kept boiling, and 
the igloos rang with chants of primitive joys. 

On March 7 we began a straight run to the Polar 
sea, a distance of one hundred and seventy miles. The 
weather was superb and the ice again free of heavy 
snow. 

In six marches we reached Schei Island, which we 
found to be a peninsula. We halted here and a 
feast day was declared. Twenty-seven musk oxen and 
twenty-four hares were secured in one after-dinner hunt. 
This meat guaranteed a food supply to the shores of the 
Poar sea. A weight was lifted from my load of cares, 
for I had doubted the existence of game far enough 
north to count on fresh meat to the sea. The tempera- 
ture was still low ( — 50° F.) , but the nights were bright- 
ening, and the days offered twelve hours of good light. 
Our outlook was hopeful indeed. 

In the Polar campaign, the bear was unconsciously 
our best friend, and also consciously our worst enemy. 
There were times when we admired him, although he was 
never exactly friendly to us. There were other times 
when we regarded him with a savage wrath. Only be- 
yond the range of lif e in the utmost North were we free 
from his attacks. In other places he nosed our trail 
with curious persistence. He had attacked the first 
party that was sent out to explore a route, under cover 
of night and storms. One man was wounded, another 
lost the tail of his coat and a part of his anatomy. 

In our march of glory through the musk ox land, 



186 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the bear came as a rival, and disputed not only our right 
to the chase, but also our right to the product from our 
own catch. But we had guns and dogs, and the bears 
fell easily. We were jealous of the quest of the musk 
ox. It seemed properly to belong to the domain of 
man's game. We were equal at the time to the task, 
and did not require the bear's help. 

The bears were good at figures, and quickly real- 
ized ours was a superior fighting force. So they joined 
the ranks in order that they might share in the division 
of the spoils. The bear's goodly mission was always 
regarded with suspicion. We could easily spare the 
bones of our game, which he delighted to pick. We were 
perfectly able to protect our booty with one hundred 
dogs, whose dinners depended on open eyes. But the 
bear did not always understand our tactics. We after- 
wards learned that we did not always understand his, 
for he drove many prizes into our arms. But man is a 
short-sighted critic— he sees only his side of the game. 

In the northern march a much more friendly spirit 
was developed. We differed on many points of ethics 
with bruin, and our fights, successful or otherwise, were 
too numerous and disagreeable to relate fully. Only 
one of these battles will be recorded here, to save the 
reputation of man as a superior fighting animal. 

We had made a long march of about forty miles. 
Already the dull purple of twilight was resting heavily 
on darkening snows. The temperature was — 81°. 
There was no wind. The air was semi-liquid with sus- 
pended crystals. When standing still we were perfectly 
comfortable, although jets of steam from our nostrils 
arranged frost crescents about our faces. 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 187 

We had been advancing towards a group of musk 
oxen for more than an hour. We were now in the habit 
of living from catch to catch, filling up on meat at the 
end of each successful hunt, and waiting for pot-luck for 
the next meal. The sledges were too heavily loaded to 
carry additional weight. Furthermore, the tempera- 
ture was too low to split up frozen meat. Indeed, most 
of our axes had been broken in trying to divide meat as 
dog food. It was plainly an economy of axes and fuel 
to fill up on warm meat as the skin was removed, and 
wait for the next plunder. 

We had been two days without setting eyes on an 
appetizing meal of steaming meat. Not a living speck 
had crossed our horizon; and, therefore, when we noted 
the little cloud of steam rise from a side hill, and 
guessed that under it were herds of musk ox, our 
palates moistened with anticipatory joys. A camping 
place was sought. Two domes of snow were erected as 
a shelter. 

Through the glasses we counted twenty-one musk 
oxen. Some were digging up snow to find willows; 
others were sleeping. All were unsuspecting. After 
the experience we had in this kind of hunting, we confi- 
dently counted the game as ours. A holiday was de- 
clared for the morrow, to dispose of the surplus. Nour- 
ishment in prospect, one hundred dogs started with a 
jump, under the lashes of ten Eskimos. Our sledges 
began shooting the boreal shoots. After rushing over 
minor hills, the dog noses sank into bear tracks. A little 
farther along, we realized we had rivals. Two bears 
were far ahead, approaching the musk oxen. 

The dogs scented their rivals. The increased 



188 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

bounding of the sledges made looping-the-loop seem 
tame. But we were too late; the bears ran into the 
bunch of animals, and spoiled our game with no advan- 
tage to themselves. Giving a half-hearted chase, they 
rose to a bank of snow, deliberately sat down, and turned 
to a position to give us the laugh. 

The absence of musk ox did not slacken the pace 
of the dogs. The bears were quick to see the force of 
our intent. They scattered and climbed. A bear is an 
expert Alpinist; he requires no ice axe and no lantern. 
The moon came out, and the snow slopes began to glare 
with an electric incandescence. 

In this pearly light, the white bear seemed black, 
and was easily located. One bear slipped into a ravine 
and was lost. All attention was now given to the other, 
which was ascending an icy ridge to a commanding 
precipice. We cut the dogs from the sledges. They 
soared up the white slope as if they had wings. The 
bear gained the crest in time to cuff away each rising 
antagonist. The dogs tumbled over each other, down 
several hundred feet into a soft snow-padded gully. 
Other dogs continued to rise on the ridge to keep the 
bear guessing. The dogs in the pit discovered a new 
route, and made a combined rear attack. Bruin was 
surprised, and turned to face his enemies. Backing from 
a sudden assault, he stepped over a precipice, and tum- 
bled in a heap into the dog-strewn pit. The battle was 
now on in full force. Finding four feet more useful 
than one mouth, the bear turned on his back and sent his 
paws out with telling effect. The dogs, although not 
giving up the battle, scattered, for the swing of the 
creature's feet did not suit their battle methods. Sit- 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 189 

ting on curled tails, they filled the air with murderous 
howls and raised clouds of frozen breath in the flying 
snow. 

We were on the scene at a safe distance, each with 
a tight grip on his gun, expecting the bear to make a 
sudden plunge. But he was not given a choice of move- 
ment, and we could not shoot into the darting pit of 
dogs without injuring them. At this moment Ah-we- 
lah, youngest of the party, advanced. Leaving his gun, 
he descended through the dog ranks into the pit, with 
the spiked harpoon shaft. The bear threw back its 
head to meet him. A score of dogs grabbed the bear's 
feet. Ah-we-lah raised liis arm. A sudden savage 
thrust sank the blunt steel into the bear's chest. Crack- 
ing whips, we scattered the guarding dogs The prize 
was quickly divided. 

On our advance to the Polar sea, I found that there 
is considerable art in building snowhouses. The casual 
observer is likely to conclude that it is an easy problem 
to pile up snow-blocks, dome-shaped, but to do this 
properly, so that the igloo will withstand wind, requires 
adept work. From the lessons of my companions in 
this art I now became more alert to learn, knowing the 
necessity of protection on our Polar dash. 

The first problem is to find proper snow. One has 
often to seek for banks where the snow is just hard 
enough. If it is too hard, it cannot be easily cut with 
knives. If it is too soft, the blocks will crush, and cause 
the house to cave in. Long knives are the best instru- 
ments — one of fifteen inches and another about ten. 
From sixty to seventy-five blocks, fifteen by twenty- 
four inches, are required to make a house ten feet by ten. 



190 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The blocks are cut according to the snow, but fifteen by 
twenty-four by eight inches is the best size. 

The lower tiers of blocks are set in slight notches in 
the snow, to prevent the blocks from slipping out. A 
slight tilt begins from the first tiers; the next tier tilts 
still more, and so the next. The blocks are set so that 
the upper blocks cover the breaks in the lower tier. The 
fitting is done mostly with the blocks in position, the 
knife being passed between the blocks to and fro, with 
a pressure on the blocks with the other hand. The 
hardest task is to make the blocks stick without holding 
in the upper tiers. This is done by deft cuts with the 
knife and a slight thump of the blocks. 

The dome is the most difficult part to build. In 
doing this all blocks are leveled and carefully set to arch 
the roof. 

When the structure is completed, a candle is lit and 
the cracks are stuffed by cutting the edges off the near- 
est blocks, and pressing the broken snow into the cracks 
with the mittens. After this process, the interior ar- 
rangement is worked out. The foot space is first cut 
out in blocks. If the snow is on a slope, as it often hap- 
pens, these blocks are raised and the upper slopes are 
cut down to a level plane. 

The foot space is a very important matter, first for 
the comfort of sitting, and also to let off the carbonic 
acid gas, which quickly settles in these temperatures and 
extinguishes the fires. It, of course, has also an impor- 
tant bearing on human breathing. 

Inhalation of very cold air at this time forced an 
unconscious expenditure of very much energy. The 
extent of this tax can be gauged only by the enormous 




ALONG THE EDGE OF THE POLAR SEA LOST LAND'S END 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 191 

difference between the temperature of the body and that 
of the air. One day it was —72° F. The difference 
was, therefore, 170°. It is hard to conceive of normal 
breathing under such difficulties; but when properly 
clothed and fed, no great discomfort or ill-effects are 
noted. The membranes of the air passages are, how- 
ever, overflushed with blood. The chest circulation is 
forced to its hmits, and the heart beats are increased and 
strengthened. The organs of circulation and respira- 
tion, which do ninety per cent, of the work of the body, 
are taxed with a new burden that must be counted in 
estimating one's day's task. This loss of power in 
breathing extreme frost is certain to reduce working 
time and bodily force. 

The land whose coast we were following to the 
shores of the Polar sea is part of the American hemi- 
sphere, and one of the largest islands of the world, 
spreading 30° longitude and rising 7° of latitude. What 
is its name? The question must remained unanswered, 
for it not only has no general name, but numerous sec- 
tions are written with names and outlines that differ to a 
large extent with the caprice of the explorers who have 
been there. 

The south is called Lincoln Land; above it, 
Ellesmere Land. Then comes Schley Land, Grinnell 
Land, Arthur Land, and Grant Land, with other lands 
of later christening by Sverdrup and others. 

No human beings inhabit the island. No nation 
assumes the responsibility of claiming or protecting it. 
The Eskimo calls the entire country Acpohon, or "the 
Land of Guillemots," which are found in great abun- 
dance along the southeast point. I have, therefore, to 



192 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

avoid conflictions, affixed the name of Acpohon as the 
general designation. 

We had now advanced beyond the range of all 
primitive life. No human voice broke the frigid silence. 
The Eskimos had wandered into the opening of the 
musk ox pass. Sverdrup had mapped the channels of 
the west coast. But here was no trace of modern or abo- 
riginal residence. There is no good reason why men 
should not have followed the musk oxen here, but the 
nearest Eskimos on the American side are those on Lan- 
caster Sound. 

I found an inspiration in being thus alone at the 
world's end. The barren rocks, the wastes of snow- 
fields, the mountains stripped of earlier ice-sheets, and 
every phase of the landscape, assured a new interest. 
There was a note of absolute abandon on the part of 
nature. If our own resources failed, or if a calamity 
overtook us, there would be no trace to mark icy graves 
forever hidden from surviving loved ones. 

My Eskimo comrades were enthusiastic explorers. 
The game trails gave a touch of animation to their steps, 
which meant much to the progress of the expedition. 
We not only saw musk oxen in large herds, but tracks 
of bears and wolves were everywhere in line with our 
course. On the sea-ice we noted many seal blow-holes. 
Already the natives talked of coming here on the fol- 
lowing year to cast their lot in the new wilds. 

The picturesque headland of Schie we found to be 
a huge triassic rock of the same general formation as 
that indicated along Eureka Sound. Its west offered a 
series of grassy slopes bared by persistent winds, upon 
which animal life found easy access to the winter-cured 



IN GAME TRAILS TO LAND'S END 193 

grass. A narrow neck of land connected what seemed 
like an island with the main land. Here caches of fur 
and fuel were left for the return. In passing Snag's 
Fiord the formation changed. Here, for several 
marches, game was scarce. The temperature rose as we 
neared the Polar sea. The snow became much deeper 
but it was hardened by stronger winds and increased 
humidity. High glacier-abandoned valleys with grad- 
ual slopes to the water's edge, gave the Heiberg shores 
on Nansen Sound a different type of landscape from 
that of the opposite shores. Here and there we found 
pieces of lignite coal, and as we neared Svartevoeg the 
carboniferous formation became more evident. 

Camping in the lowlands just south of Svartevoeg 
Cliffs we secured seven musk oxen and eighty-five hares. 
Here were immense fields of grass and moss bared by 
persistent winter gales. By a huge indentation here, 
through which we saw the sea-level ice of the west, the 
shores seemed to indicate that the point of Heiberg is an 
island, but of this we were not absolutely sure. To us 
it was a great surprise that here, on the shores of the 
Polar sea, we found a garden spot of plant luxuriance 
and animal delight. For this assured, in addition to the 
caches left en route, a sure food supply for the return 
from our mission to the North. 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 

BY FORCED EFFORTS AND THE USE OF AXES SPEED IS MADE 
OVER THE LAND-ADHERING PACK ICE OF POLAR SEA — 
THE MOST DIFFICULT TRAVEL OF THE PROPOSED 
JOURNEY SUCCESSFULLY ACCOMPLISHED REGRET- 
FUL PARTING WITH THE ESKIMOS 

XIII 

FrvE Hundred Miles From the Pole 

Svartevoeg is a great cliff, the northernmost point 
of Heiberg Land, which leaps precipitously into the 
Polar sea. Its negroid face of black scarred rocks 
frowns like the carven stone countenance of some hide- 
ously mutilated and enraged Titan savage. It ex- 
presses, more than a human face could, the unendurable 
sufferings of this region of frigid horrors. It is five 
hundred and twenty miles from the North Pole. 

From this point I planned to make my dash in as 
straight a route as might be possible. Starting from 
our camp at Annoatok late in February, when the cur- 
tain of night was just beginning to lift, when the chill 
of the long winter was felt at its worst, we had forced 
progress through deep snows, over land and frozen seas, 
braving the most furious storms of the season and trav- 
eling despite baffling darkness, and had covered in less 
than a month about four hundred miles — nearly half 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 195 

the distance between our winter camp and the Pole. 
Arriving at land's end my heart had cause for 
gratification. We had weathered the worst storms of 
the year. The long bitter night had now been lost. The 
days lengthened and invaded with glitter the decreasing 
nights. The sun glowed more radiantly daily, rose 
higher and higher to a continued afterglow in cheery 
blues, and sank for periods briefer and briefer in seas of 
running color. Our hopes, like those of all mankind, had 
risen with the soul-lif ting sun. We had made our prog- 
ress mainly at the expense of the land which we explored, 
for the game en route had furnished food and clothing. 
The supplies we had brought with us from Annoa- 
tok were practically untouched. We had stepped in 
overfed skins, were fired by a resolution which was re- 
charged by a strength bred of feeding upon abundant 
raw and wholesome meat. Eating to repletion on un- 
limited game, our bodies were kept in excellent trim by 
the exigencies of constant and difficult traveling. 

As a man's mental force is the result of yesteryears' 
upbuilding, so his strength of to-day is the result of last 
week's eating. With the surge of ambition which had 
been formulating for twenty years, and my body in best 
physical shape for the supreme test, the Pole now 
seemed almost near. 

As the great cliffs of Svartevoeg rose before us my 
heart leaped. I felt that the first rung in the ladder of 
success had been climbed, and as I stood under the black 
cliffs of this earth's northernmost land I felt that I 
looked through the eyes of long experience. Having 
reached the end of Nansen Sound, with Svartevoeg on 
my left, and the tall, scowling cliffs of Lands-Lokk on 



196 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

my right, I viewed for the first time the rough and heavy 
ice of the untracked Polar sea, over which, knowing the 
conditions of the sea ice, I anticipated the most difficult 
part of our journey lay. Imagine before you fields of 
crushed ice, glimmering in the rising sunlight with shoot- 
ing fires of sapphire and green; fields which have been 
slowly forced downward by strong currents from the 
north, and pounded and piled in jagged mountainous 
heaps for miles about the land. Beyond this difficult ice, 
as I knew, lay more even fields, over which traveling, 
saving the delays of storms and open leads, would be 
comparatively easy. To encompass this rough prospect 
was the next step in reaching my goal. I felt that no 
time must be lost. At this point I was now to embark 
upon the Polar sea; the race for my life's ambition was 
to begin here; but first I had finally to resolve on the 
details of my campaign. 

I decided to reduce my party to the smallest pos- 
sible number consistent with the execution of the prob- 
lem in hand. In addition, for greater certainty of 
action over the unknown regions beyond, I now defi- 
nitely resolved to simplify the entire equipment. An 
extra sled was left at the cache at this point to insure 
a good vehicle for our return in case the two sleds which 
we were to take should be badly broken en route. I 
decided to take only two men on the last dash. I had 
carefully watched and studied every one of my party, 
and had already selected E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, 
two young Eskimos, each about twenty years old, as best 
fitted to be my sole companions in the long run of 
destiny. 

Twenty-six of the best dogs were picked, and upon 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 197 

two sleds were to be loaded all our needs for a trip esti- 
mated to last eighty days. 

To have increased this party would not have enabled 
us to carry supplies for a greater number of days. 

The sleds might have been loaded more heavily, but 
I knew this would reduce the important progress of the 
first days. 

With the character of ice which we had before us, 
advance stations were impossible. A large expedition 
and a heavy equipment would have been imprudent. 
We must win or lose in a prolonged effort at high press- 
ure. Therefore, absolute control and ease of adapt- 
ability to a changing environment was imperative. 

From past experience I knew it was impossible to 
control adequately the complex human temperament of 
white men in the Polar wilderness. But I felt certain 
the two Eskimo boys could be trusted to follow to the 
limit of my own endurance. So our sleds were bur- 
dened only with absolute necessaries. 

Because of the importance of a light and efficient 
equipment, much care had to be taken to reduce every 
ounce of weight. The sleds were made of hickory, the 
lightest wood consistent with great endurance, and 
every needless fibre was gouged out. The iron shoes 
were ground thin, and up to the present had stood the 
test of half the Polar battle. 

Eliminating everything not actually needed, but 
selecting adequate food, I made the final preparations. 

The camp equipment selected included the follow- 
ing articles: One blow fire lamp (jeuel), three alumi- 
num pails, three aluminum cups, three aluminum tea- 
spoons, one tablespoon, three tin plates, six pocket 



198 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

knives, two butcher knives (ten inches), one saw knife 
(thirteen inches), one long knife (fifteen inches), one 
rifle (Sharp's), one rifle (Winchester .22), one hundred 
and ten cartridges, one hatchet, one Alpine axe, extra 
line and lashings, and three personal bags. 

The sled equipment consisted of two sleds weigh- 
ing fifty-two pounds each ; one twelve-foot folding can- 
vas boat, the wood of which formed part of a sled; one 
silk tent, two canvas sled covers, two reindeer skin sleep- 
ing bags, floor furs, extra wood for sled repairs, screws, 
nails and rivets. 

My instruments were as follows : One field glass ; 
one pocket compass; one liquid compass; one aluminum 
surveying compass, with azimuth attachment; one 
French surveyor's sextant, with radius 7^, divided on 
silver to 10', reading by Vernier to 10" (among the extra 
attachments were a terrestrial and an astronomical tele- 
scope, and an extra night telescope mounted in alumi- 
num, and also double refracting prisms, thermometers, 
etc. — the instrument was made by Hurleman of France 
and bought of Keuffel & Esser) ; one glass artificial 
horizon; three Howard pocket chronometers; one Tif- 
fany watch; one pedometer; map-making material and 
instruments; three thermometers; one aneroid barom- 
eter; one camera and films; notebook and pencils. 

The personal bags contained four extra pairs of 
kamiks, with fur stockings, a woolen shirt, three pairs of 
sealskin mittens, two pairs of fur mittens, a piece of 
blanket, a sealskin coat (netsha) , extra fox tails and dog 
harness, a repair kit for mending clothing, and much 
other necessary material. 

On the march we wore snow goggles, blue fox coats 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 199 

(kapitahs) and birdskin shirts (Ah-tea), bearskin pants 
(Nan-nooka) , sealskin boots (Kam-ik) , hare-skin stock- 
ings ( Ah-tee-shah) , and a band of fox tails under the 
knee and about the waist. 

The food supply, as will be seen by the following 
list, was mostly pemmican : 

Eight hundred and five pounds of beef pemmican, 
one hundred and thirty pounds of walrus pemmican, 
fifty pounds of musk ox tenderloin, twenty-five pounds 
of musk ox tallow, two pounds of tea, one pound of 
coffee, twenty-five pounds of sugar, forty pounds of 
condensed milk, sixty pounds of milk biscuit, ten pounds 
of pea soup powdered and compressed, fifty pounds of 
surprises, forty pounds petroleum, two pounds of wood 
alcohol, three pounds of candles and one pound of 
matches. 

We planned our future food supply with pemmican 
as practically the sole food ; the other things were to be 
mere palate satisfiers. For the eighty days the supply 
was to be distributed as follows: 

For three men : Pemmican, one pound per day for 
eighty days, two hundred and forty pounds. For six 
dogs : Pemmican, one pound per day for eighty days, 
four hundred and eighty pounds. This necessitated a 
total of seven hundred and twenty pounds of pemmican. 

Of the twenty-six dogs, we had at first figured on 
taking six over the entire trip to the Pole and back to 
our caches on land, but in this last calculation only six 
were to be taken. Twenty, the least useful, were to 
be used one after the other, as food on the march, as 
soon as reduced loads and better ice permitted. This, 
we counted, would give one thousand pounds of fresh 



200 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

meat over and above our pemmican supply. We 
carried about two hundred pounds of pemmican 
above the expected consumption, and in the final work- 
ing out the dogs were used for traction purposes longer 
than we anticipated. But, with a cautious saving, the 
problem was solved somewhat more economically than 
any figuring before the start indicated. 

Every possible article of equipment was made to do 
double service; not an ounce of dead weight was carried 
which could be dispensed with. 

After making several trips about Svartevoeg, ar- 
ranging caches for the return, studying the ice and land, 
I decided to make the final start on the Polar sea on 
March 18, 1908. 

The time had come to part with most of our faithful 
Eskimo companions. Taking their hands in my manner 
of parting, I thanked them as well as I could for their 
faithful service to me. "Tigishi ah yaung-uluk!" (The 
big nail !) , they replied, wishing me luck. 

Then, in a half gale blowing from the northwest and 
charged with snow, they turned their backs upon me and 
started upon the return track. They carried little but 
ammunition, because we had learned that plenty of game 
was to be provided along the return courses. 

Even after they were out of sight in the drifting 
snowstorm their voices came cheerily back to me. The 
faithful savages had followed me until told that I could 
use them no longer; and it was not only for their simple 
pay of knives and guns, but because of a real desire to 
be helpful. Their parting enforced a pang of loneliness* 

*A ereat deal of careful search and study was prosecuted about 
Svartevoeg, for here Peary claims to have left a cache, the alleged placing 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 201 

With a snow-charged blast in our faces it was im- 
possible for us to start immediately after the Eskimos 
returned. Withdrawing to the snow igloo, we entered 
our bags and slept a few hours longer. At noon the 
horizon cleared. The wind veered to the southwest and 
came with an endurable force. Doubly rationed the 
night before, the dogs were not to be fed again for two 
days. The time had come to start. We quickly loaded 
our sleds. Hitching the dogs, we let the whips fall, and 
with bounds they leaped around deep ice grooves in the 
great paleocrystic floes. 

Our journey was begun. Swept of snow by the 
force of the preceding storm, the rough ice crisply 
cracked under the swift speed of our sleds. Even on 
this uneven surface the dogs made such speed that I kept 
ahead of them only with difficulty. Their barking pealed 
about us and re-echoed from the black cliffs behind. 
Dashing about transparent ultramarine gorges, and 
about the base of miniature mountains of ice, we soon 
came into a region of undulating icy hills. The hard 
irregularity of the ice at times endangered our sleds. 
We climbed over ridges like walls. We jumped dan- 
gerous crevasses, keeping slightly west by north; the 
land soon sank in the rear of us. Drifting clouds and 
wind-driven snows soon screened the tops of black moun- 
tains. Looking behind, I saw only a swirling, moving 
scene of dull white and nebulous gray. On every side 
ice hummocks heaved their backs and writhed by. Be- 



of which he has used as a pretext for attempting to take from the map 
the name of Svartevoeg, given by Sverdrup, when he discovered it, to the 
northern part of Heiberg Land. Peary, coming later, put on his map the 
name Cape Thomas Hubbard, for one who had put easy money in his 
hands. But no such cache was found, and I doubt very much if Peary ever 
reached this point, except through a field-glass at very long range. 



202 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

hind me followed four snugly loaded sleds, drawn by 
forty-four selected dogs, under the lash of four expert 
Eskimo drivers. The dogs pranced; the joyous cries of 
the natives rose and fell. My heart leaped; my soul 
sang. I felt my blood throb with each gallop of the leap- 
ing dog teams. The sound of their feet pattering on the 
snow, the sight of their shaggy bodies tossing forward, 
gave me joy. For every foot of ice covered, every min- 
ute of constant action, drew me nearer, ever nearer, to 
my goal. 

Our first run was auspicious; it seemed to augur 
success. By the time we paused to rest we had covered 
twenty-six miles. 

We pitched camp on a floeberg of unusual height; 
about us were many big hummocks, and to the lee of 
these banks of hardened snow. Away from land it is 
always more difficult to find snow suitable for cutting 
building blocks. There, however, was an abundance. 
We busily built, in the course of an hour, a comfortable 
snow igloo. Into it we crept, grateful for shelter from 
the piercing wind. 

The dogs curled up and went to sleep without a call, 
as if they knew that there would be no food until tomor- 
row. My wild companions covered their faces with their 
long hair and sank quietly into slumber. For me sleep 
was impossible. The whole problem of our campaign 
had again to be carefully studied, and final plans made, 
not only to reach our ultimate destination, but for the 
two returning Eskimos and for the security of the things 
left at Annoatok, and also to re-examine the caches left 
en route for our return. These must be protected as 
well as possible against the bears and wolves. 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 203 

Already I had begun to think of our return to land. 
It was difficult at this time even to approximate any 
probable course. Much would depend upon conditions 
to be encountered in the northward route. Although we 
had left caches of supplies with the object of returning 
along Nansen Sound, into Cannon Fiord and over 
Arthur Land, I entertained grave doubts of our ability 
to return this way. I knew that if the ice should drift 
strongly to the east we might not be given the choice of 
working out our own return. For, in such an event, we 
should perhaps be carried helplessly to Greenland, and 
should have to seek a return either along the east or 
the west coast. 

This drift, in my opinion, would not necessarily 
mean dangerous hardships, for the musk oxen would 
keep us alive to the west, and to the east it seemed pos- 
sible to reach Shannon Island, where the Baldwin- 
Zeigler expeditions had abandoned a large cache of sup- 
plies. It appeared not improbable, also, that a large 
land extension might offer a safe return much further 
west. I fell asleep while pondering over these things. By 
morning the air was clear of frost crystals. It was in- 
tensely cold, not only because of a temperature of 56° 
below zero, Fahrenheit, but a humid chill which pierced 
to the very bones. A light breeze came from the west. 
The sun glowed in a freezing field of blue. 

Hitching our dogs, we started. For several hours 
we seemed to soar over the white spaces. Then the ice 
changed in character, the expansive, thick fields of 
glacier-like ice giving way to floes of moderate size and 
thickness. These were separated by zones of trouble- 
some crushed ice thrown into high-pressure lines, which 



204 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

offered serious barriers. Chopping the pathway with 
an ice axe, we managed to make fair progress. We 
covered twenty-one miles of our second run on the Polar 
sea. I expected, at the beginning of this final effort, 
to send back by this time the two extra men, Koo-loo- 
ting-wah and In-u-gi-to, who had remained to help us 
over the rough pack-ice. But progress had not been as 
good as I had expected; so, although we could hardly 
spare any food to feed their dogs, the two volunteered 
to push along for another day without dog food. 

Taking advantage of big, strong teams and the fire 
of early enthusiasm, we aimed to force long distances 
through the extremely difficult ice jammed here against 
the distant land. The great weight of the supplies in- 
tended for the final two sleds were now distributed over 
four sleds. With axe and compass in hand, I led the 
way. With prodigious effort I chopped openings 
through barriers after barriers of ice. Sled after sled 
was passed over the tumbling series of obstacles by my 
companions while I advanced to open a way through the 
next. With increasing difficulties in some troublesome 
ice, we camped after making only sixteen miles. Al- 
though weary, we built a small snowhouse. I prepared 
over my stove a pot of steaming musk ox loins and broth 
and a double brew of tea. After partaking of this our 
two helpers prepared to return. To have taken them 
farther would have necessitated a serious drain on our 
supplies and an increased danger for their lives in a 
longer return to land. 

By these men I sent back instructions to Rudolph 
Francke to remain in charge of my supplies at Annoatok 
until June 5th, 1908, and then, if we should not have re- 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 205 

turned by that date, to place Koo-loo-ting-wah in charge 
and go home either by a whaler or some Danish ship. I 
knew that, should we get in trouble, he could offer no 
relief to help us, and that his waiting an indefinite time 
alone would be a needless hardship. 

The way before Koo-loo-ting-wah and In-u-gi-to, 
who had so cheerfully remained to the last possible mo- 
ment that they could be of help, was not an entirely 
pleasant one. Their friends were by now well on their 
journey toward Annoatok, and they had to start after 
them with sleds empty of provisions and dogs hungry for 
food. 

They hoped to get back to land and off the ice of 
the Polar sea in one long day's travel of twenty-four 
hours. Even this would leave their fourth day without 
food for their dogs. In case of storms or moving of 
the ice, other days of famine might easily fall to their lot. 
However, they faced possible dangers cheerfully rather 
than ask me to give them anything from the stores that 
were to support their two companions, myself and our 
dogs on our way onward to the Pole and back. I was 
deeply touched by this superlative devotion. They as- 
sured me too (in which they were right) that they had 
an abundance of possible food in the eighteen dogs they 
took with them. If necessary, they could sacrifice a few 
at any time for the benefit of the others, as must often 
be done in the Northland. 

There were no formalities in our parting on the 
desolate ice. Yet, as the three of us who were left 
alone gazed after our departing companions, we felt a 
poignant pang in our hearts. About us was a cheerless 
waste of crushed wind-and-water-driven ice. A' sharp 



206 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

wind stung our faces. The sun was obscured by clouds 
which piled heavily and darkly about the horizon. The 
cold and brilliant jeweled effects of the frozen sea were 
lost in a dismal hue of dull white and sombre gray. On 
the horizon, Svartevoeg, toward which the returning 
Eskimos were bound, was but a black speck. To the 
north, where our goal lay, our way was untrodden, un- 
known. The thought came to me that perhaps we 
should never see our departing friends. With it came 
a pang of tenderness for the loved ones I had left behind 
me. Although our progress so far had been successful, 
and half the distance was made, dangers un- 
known and undreamed of existed in the way before us. 
My Eskimos already showed anxiety — an anxiety which 
every aboriginal involuntarily feels when land disap- 
pears on the horizon. Never venturing themselves far 
onto the Polar sea, when they lose sight of land a panic 
overcomes them. Before leaving us one of the depart- 
ing Eskimos had pointed out a low-lying cloud to the 
north of us. "Noona" (land) , he said, nodding to the 
others. The thought occurred to me that, on our trip, 
I could take advantage of the mirages and low clouds 
on the horizon and encourage a belief in a constant near- 
ness to land, thus maintaining their courage and cheer* 
Regrets and fears were not long-lasting, however, 

•On their return to Etah, and after I had left for Upernavik, my 
Eskimos, questioned by Mr. Peary, who was anxious to secure anything 
that might serve towards discrediting me, answered innocently that they 
had been only a few sleeps from land. This unwilling and naive admission 
was published in a pretentious statement, the purpose of which was to cast 
doubt on my elaim. Other answers of my Eskimos, to the effect that I 
had instruments and had made constant observations, it is curious to note, 
were suppressed by Mr. Peary and his party on their return. Every 
insinuation was made to the effect that I had had no instruments, had con- 
sequently taken no observations, and had, therefore, no means of ascertain- 
ing the Pole even had I wished to do so. 





DEPARTURE OF SUPPORTING PARTY 
A BREATHING SPELL 
POLEWARD ! 



THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS 207 

for the exigencies of our problem were sufficiently im- 
perative and absorbing. To the overcoming of these we 
had now to devote our entire attention and strain every 
fibre. 

We had now advanced, by persistent high-pressure 
efforts, over the worst possible ice conditions, somewhat 
more than sixty miles. Of the 9° between land's end 
and the Pole, we had covered one; and we had done this 
without using the pound of food per day allotted each of 
us out of the eighty days' supply transported. 




POLAR BEAR 



OVER THE POLAR SEA TO THE BIG LEAD 

"WITH TWO ESKIMO COMPANIONS, THE RACE POLEWARD 
CONTINUES OVER ROUGH AND DIFFICULT ICE — THE 

LAST LAND FADES BEHIND MIRAGES LEAP INTO 

BEING AND WEAVE A MYSTIC SPELL — A SWIRLING 

SCENE OF MOVING ICE AND FANTASTIC EFFECTS 

STANDING ON A HILL OF ICE, A BLACK, WRITHING, 

SNAKY CUT APPEARS IN THE ICE BEYOND THE BIG 

LEAD A NIGHT OF ANXIETY — FIVE HUNDRED MILES 

ALREADY COVERED — FOUR HUNDRED TO THE POLE 

XIV 

To Eighty-Third Parallel 

Our party, thus reduced to three, went onward. 
Although the isolation was more oppressive, there were 
the advantages of the greater comfort, safety, speed and 
convenience that came from having only a small band. 
The large number of men in a big expedition always 
increases responsibilities and difficulties. In the early 
part of a Polar venture this disadvantage is eliminated 
by the facilities to augment supplies by the game en 
route and by ultimate advantages of the law of the sur- 
vival of the fittest. But after the last supporting sleds 
return, the men are bound to each other for protection 
and can no longer separate. A disabled or unfitted 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 209 

dog can be fed to his companions, but an injured or 
weak man cannot be eaten nor left alone to die. An 
exploring venture is only as strong as its weakest mem- 
ber, and increased numbers, like increased links in a 
chain, reduce efficiency. 

Moreover, personal idiosyncrasies and inconven- 
iences always shorten a day's march. And, above all, a 
numerous party quickly divides into cliques, which are 
always opposed to each other, to the leader, and in- 
variably to the best interests of the problem in hand. 
With but two savage companions, to whom this arduous 
task was but a part of an accustomed life of frost, I did 
not face many of the natural personal barriers which con- 
tributed to the failure of former Arctic expeditions. 

In my judgment, when you double a Polar party 
its chances for success are reduced one-half; when you 
divide it, strength and security are multiplied. 

We had been traveling about two and one-half miles 
per hour. By making due allowances for detours and 
halts at pressure lines, the number of hours traveled 
gave us a fair estimate of the day's distance. Against 
this the pedometer offered a check, and the compass 
gave the course. Thus, over blank charts, our course 
was marked. 

By this kind of dead reckoning our position on 
March 20 was: Latitude, 82° 23'; Longitude, 95° 14'. 
A study of our location seemed to indicate that we had 
passed beyond the zone of ice crushed by the influence 
of land pressure. Behind were great hummocks and 
small ice ; ahead was a cheerful expanse of larger, clearer 
fields, offering a promising highway. 

Our destination was now about four hundred and 



210 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sixty miles beyond. Our life, with its pack environ- 
ment, assumed another aspect. Previously we per- 
mitted ourselves some luxuries. A pound of coal oil 
and a good deal of musk ox tallow were burned each day 
to heat the igloo and to cook abundant food. Extra 
meals were served when occasion called for them, and 
for each man there had been all the food and drink he 
desired. If the stockings or the mittens were wet there 
was fire enough to dry them out. All of this had now 
to be changed. 

Hereafter there was to be a short daily allowance 
of food and fuel — one pound of pemmican a day for the 
dogs, about the same for the men, with just a taste of 
other things. Fortunately, we were well provided with 
fresh meat for the early part of the race by the lucky run 
through game lands. Because of the need of fuel 
economy we now cut our pemmican with an axe. Later 
it split the axe. 

At first no great hardship followed our changed 
routine. We filled up sufficiently on two cold meals 
daily and also depended on superfluous bodily tissue. 
It was no longer possible to jump on the sled for an 
occasional breathing spell, as we had done along the 
land. 

Such a journey as now confronted us is a long- 
continued, hard, difficult, sordid, body-exhausting thing. 
Each day some problem presents some peculiar condi- 
tion of the ice or state of the weather. The effort, for 
instance, to form some shield from intense cold gives 
added interest to the game. That one thing after an- 
other is being met, with always the anticipation of next 
day's struggle, adds a thrill to the conquest, spurs one 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 211 

to greater and ever greater feats, and really constitues 
the actual victory of such a quest. With overloaded 
sleds the drivers must now push and pull at them to aid 
the dogs. My task was to search the troubled ice for 
easy routes, cutting away here and there with the ice-axe 
to permit the passing of the sleds. 

Finally stripping for the race, man and dog must 
walk along together through storms and frost for the 
elusive goal. Success or failure must depend mostly 
upon our ability to transport nourishment and to keep 
up the muscular strength for a prolonged period. 

As we awoke on the morning of March 21 and 
peered out of the eye-port of the igloo, the sun edged 
along tire northeast. A warm orange glow suffused the 
ice and gladdened our hearts. The temperature was 
63° below zero, Fahrenheit; the barometer was steady 
and high. There was almost no wind. Not a cloud 
lined the dome of pale purple blue, but a smoky streak 
along the west shortened our horizon in that direction 
and marked a lead of open water. 

Our breakfast consisted of two cups of tea, a watch- 
sized biscuit, a chip of frozen meat and a boulder of 
pemmican. Creeping out of our bags, our shivering 
legs were pushed through bearskin cylinders which 
served as trousers. We worked our feet into frozen 
boots and then climbed into fur coats. Next we kicked 
the front out of the snowhouse and danced about to 
stimulate heart action. 

Quickly the camp furnishings were tossed on the 
sleds and securely lashed. We gathered the dog traces 
into the drag lines, vigorously snapped the long whips, 
and the willing creatures bent to the shoulder straps. 



212 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The sleds groaned. The unyielding snows gave a 
metallic ring. The train moved with a cheerful pace. 

"Am-my noona terronga dosangwah" (Perhaps 
land will be out of sight today) , we said to one another.* 
But the words did not come with serious intent. In 
truth, each in his own way felt keenly that we were leav- 
ing a world of life and possible comfort for one of tor- 
ment and suffering. Axel Heiberg Land, to the south, 
was already only a dull blue haze, while Grant Land, on 
the eastward, was making fantastic figures of its peaks 
and ice walls. The ice ran in waves of undulating blue, 
shimmering with streams of gold, before us. Behind, 
the last vestiges of jagged land rose and fell like marion- 
ettes dancing a wild farewell. Our heart-pulls were 
backward, our mental kicks were forward. 

Until now this strange white world had been one 
of grim reality. As though some unseen magician had 
waved his wand, it was suddenly transformed into a 
land of magic. Leaping into existence, as though from 
realms beyond the horizon, huge mirages wove a web of 
marvelous delusional pictures about the horizon. Peaks 
of snow were transformed into volcanoes, belching 
smoke; out of the pearly mist rose marvelous cities with 



*My enemies credit me with a journey of two thousand miles, which 
is double Peary's greatest distance; but then, to deny my Polar attain- 
ment, they keep me sitting here, on a sterile waste of ice, for three months. 
Would any man sit down there and shiver in idleness, when the reachable 
glory of Polar victory was on one side and the get-at-able gastronomic 
joy of game land on the other? Only a crazy man would do that, and 
we were too busy to lose our mental balance at that time. When leg-force 
controls human destiny, and a half-filled stomach clears the brain for 
action, for a long time, at least, insanity is very remote. Furthermore, 
the Eskimo boys said we traveled on the ice-pack for seven moons, and 
that we reached a place where the sun does not dip at night; where the 
day and night shadows were of equal length. Has Mr. Peary reached that 
point? If so, neither he nor his Eskimos have noted it. 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 213 

fairy-like castles ; in the color-shot clouds waved golden 
and rose and crimson pennants from pinnacles and 
domes of mosaic-colored splendor. Huge creatures, 
misshapen and grotesque, writhed along the horizon and 
performed amusing antics. 

Beginning now, and rarely absent, these spectral 
denizens of the North accompanied us during the entire 
journey; and later, when, fagged of brain and sapped 
of bodily strength, I felt my mind swimming in a sea 
of half -consciousness, they filled me almost with horror, 
impressing me as the monsters one sees in a nightmare. 

At every breathing spell in the mad pace our heads 
now turned to land. Every look was rewarded by a 
new prospect. From belching volcanoes to smoking 
cities of modern bustle, the mirages gave a succession of 
striking scenes which filled me with awed and marveling 
delight. A more desolate line of coast could not be 
imagined. Along its edge ran low wind-swept and 
wind-polished mountains. These were separated by 
valleys filled with great depths of snow and glacial ice. 

Looking northward, the sky line was clear of the 
familiar pinnacles of icebergs. In the immediate 
vicinity many small bergs were seen; some of these were 
grounded, and the pack thus anchored was thrown in 
huge uplifts of pressure lines and hummocks. The sea, 
as is thereby determined, is very shallow for a long dis- 
tance from land. 

This interior accumulation of snow moves slowly to 
the sea, where it forms a low ice wall, a glacier of the 
Malaspina type. Its appearance is more like that of 
heavy sea ice; hence the name of the paleocrystic ice, 
fragments from this glacier, floebergs, which, seen in 



214 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Lincoln Sea and resembling old floes, were supposed to 
be the product of the ancient upbuilding of the ice of 
the North Polar Sea. 

Snapping our whips and urging the dogs, we trav- 
eled until late in the afternoon, mirages constantly 
appearing and melting about us. Now the land sud- 
denly settled downward as if by an earthquake. The 
pearly glitter, which had raised and magnified it, dark- 
ened. A purple fabric fell over the horizon and merged 
imperceptibly into the fighter purple blue of the upper 
skies. We saw the land, however, at successive periods 
for several days. This happened whenever the atmos- 
phere was in the right condition to elevate the terrestrial 
contour lines by refracting sun rays. 

Every condition favored us on this march. The 
wind was not strong and struck us at an angle, permit- 
ting us to guard our noses by pushing a mitten under 
our hoods or by raising a fur-clad hand. 

We had not been long in the field, however, when 
the wind, that ever-present dragon guardian of the un- 
seen northern monarch's demesne, began to suck 
strength from our bodies. Shortly before Grant Land 
entirely faded the monster fawned on us with gentle 
breathing. 

The snow was hard, and the ice, in fairly large 
fields separated by pressure lines, offered little resist- 
ance. On March 21, at the end of a forced effort of 
fourteen hours, the register indicated a progress of 
twenty-nine miles. 

Too weary to build an igloo, we threw ourselves 
thoughtlessly upon the sleds for a short rest, and fell 
asleep. I was awakened from my fitful slumber by a 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 215 

feeling of compression, as if stifling arms hideously 
gripped me. It was the wind. I breathed with diffi- 
culty. I struggled to my feet, and about me hissed and 
wailed the dismal sound. It was a sharp warning to us 
that to sleep without the shelter of an igloo would prob- 
ably mean death. 

On the heavy floe upon which we rested were sev- 
eral large hummocks. To the lee of one of these we 
found suitable snow for a shelter. 

Lines of snowy vapor were rushing over the pack. 
The wind came with rapidly increasing force. We 
erected the house, however, before we suffered severely 
from the blast. We crept into it out of the storm and 
nested in warm furs. 

The wind blew fiercely throughout the night. By 
the next morning, March 22, the storm had eased to 
a steady, light breeze. The temperature was 59° below 
zero. We emerged from our igloo at noon. Although 
the cheerless gray veil had been swept from the frigid 
dome of the sky, to the north appeared a low black fine 
over a pearly cloud which gave us much uneasiness. 
This was a narrow belt of "water-sky," which indicated 
open water or very thin ice at no great distance. 

The upper surface of Grant Land was now a mere 
thin pen line on the edge of the horizon. But a play of 
land clouds above it attracted the eyes to the last known 
rocks of solid earth. We now felt keenly the piercing 
cold of the Polar sea. The temperature gradually rose 
to 46° F. below zero, in the afternoon, but there was 
a deadly chill in the long shadows which increased with 
the swing of the lowering sun. 

A fife-sapping draught, which sealed the eyes and 



216 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

bleached the nose, still hissed over the frozen sea. We 
had hoped that this would soften with the midday sun. 
Instead, it came with a more cutting sharpness. In the 
teeth of the wind we persistently pursued a course 
slightly west of north. The wind was slightly north of 
west. It struck us at a painful angle and brought 
tears. Our moistened lashes quickly froze together as 
we winked, and when we rubbed them and drew apart 
the lids the icicles broke the tender skin. Our breath 
froze on our faces. Often we had to pause, uncover 
our hands and apply the warm palms to the face before 
it was possible to see. 

Every minute thus lost filled me with impatience 
and dismay. Minutes of traveling were as precious as 
bits of gold to a hoarding miser. 

In the course of a brief time our noses became 
tipped with a white skin and also required nursing. My 
entire face was now surrounded with ice, but there was 
no help for it. If we were to succeed the face must be 
bared to the cut of the elements. So we must suffer. 
We continued, urging the dogs and struggling with the 
wind just as a drowning man fights for life in a storm 
at sea. 

About six o'clock, as the sun crossed the west, we 
reached a line of high-pressure ridges. Beyond these 
the ice was cut into smaller floes and thrown together 
into ugly irregularities. According to my surmises, an 
active pack and troubled seas could not be far away. 
The water-sky widened, but became less sharply defined. 

We laboriously picked a way among hummocks and 
pressure lines which seemed impossible from a distance. 
Our dogs panted with the strain; my limbs ached. In a 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 217 

few hours we arrived at the summit of an unusual uplift 
of ice blocks. Looking ahead, my heart pained as if in 
the grip of an iron hand. My hopes sank within me. 
Twisting snake-like between the white field, and sepa- 
rating the packs, was a tremendous cut several miles 
wide, which seemed at the time to bar all further prog- 
ress. It was the Big Lead, that great river separating 
the land-adhering ice from the vast grinding fields of 
the central pack beyond, at which many heroic men be- 
fore me had stopped. I felt the dismay and heartsick- 
ness of all of them within me now. The wind, blowing 
with a vengeful wickedness, laughed sardonically in my 
ears. 

Of course we had our folding canvas boat on the 
sleds. But in this temperature of 48° below zero I knew 
no craft could be lowered into water without fatal re- 
sults. All of the ice about was firmly cemented together, 
and over it we made our way toward the edge of the 
water line. 

Passing through pressure lines, over smaller and 
more troublesome fields, we reached the shores of the 
Big Lead. We had, by two encouraging marches, cov- 
ered fifty miles. The first hundred miles of our journey 
on the Polar pack had been covered. The Pole was 
four hundred miles beyond ! 

Camp was pitched on a secure old ice field. Cut- 
ting through huge ice cliffs, the dark crack seemed like 
a long river winding between palisades of blue crystal. 
A thin sheet of ice had already spread over the mysteri- 
ous deep. On its ebony mirrored surface a profusion of 
fantastic frost crystals arranged themselves in bunches 
resembling white and saffron-colored flowers. 



818 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Through the apertures of this young ice dark 
vapors rose like steam through a screen of porous fabrics 
and fell in feathers of snow along the sparkling shores. 
After partaking of a boulder of pemmican, E-tuk-i- 
shook went east and I west to examine the lead of water 
for a safe crossing. There were several narrow places, 
while here and there floes which had been adrift in the 
lead were now fixed by young ice. Ah-we-lah remained 
behind to make our snowhouse comfortable. 

For a long time this huge separation in the pack 
had been a mystery to me. At first sight there seemed 
to be no good reason for its existence. Peary had found 
a similar break north of Robeson Channel. It was 
likely that what we saw was an extension of the same, 
following at a distance the general trend of the north- 
ernmost land extension. 

This is precisely what one finds on a smaller scale 
when two ice packs come together. Here the pack of 
the central polar sea meets the land-adhering ice. 
The movement of the land pack is intermittent and 
usually along the coast. The shallows, grounded ice 
and projecting points interfere with a steady drift. The 
movement of the central pack is quite constant, in 
almost every direction, the tides, currents and winds 
each giving momentum to the floating mass. The lead 
is thus the breaking line between the two bodies of ice. 
It widens as the pack separates, and narrows or widens 
with an easterly or westerly drift, according to the 
pressure of the central pack. Early in the season, when 
the pack is crevassed and not elastic, it is probably wide; 
later, as the entire sea of ice becomes active, it may dis- 
appear or shift to a line nearer the land. 



OVER POLAR SEA TO BIG LEAD 219 

In low temperature new ice forms rapidly. This 
offers an obstruction to the drift of the old ice. As the 
heavy central pack is pressed against the unyielding 
land pack the small ice is ground to splinters, and even 
heavy floes are crushed. This reduced mass of small 
ice is pasted and cemented along the shores of the Big 
Lead, leaving a broad band of troublesome surface as 
a serious barrier to sled travel. It seems quite probable 
that this lead, or a condition similar to it, extends en- 
tirely around the Polar sea as a buffer between the land 
and the middle pack. 

In exploring the shore line, a partially bridged 
place was found about a mile from camp, but the young 
ice was too elastic for a safe track. The temperature, 
however, fell rapidly with the setting sun, and the wind 
was just strong enough to sweep off the heated vapors. 
I knew better atmospheric condition could not be 
afforded quickly to thicken the young ice. 

Returning to camp that night, we surprised our 
stomachs by a little frozen musk ox tenderloin and 
tallow, the greatest delicacy in our possession. Then 
we retired. Ice was our pillow. Ice was our bed. A 
dome of snow above us held off the descending liquid air 
of frost. Outside the wind moaned. Shudderingly, 
the deep howl of the dogs rolled over the ice. Lying on 
the sheeted deep, beneath my ears I heard the noise of 
the moving, grinding, crashing pack. It sounded terri- 
fyingly like a distant thunder of guns. I could not 
sleep. Sick anxiety filled me. Could we cross the 
dreadful river on the morrow? Would the ice freeze? 
Or might the black space not hopelessly widen during 
the night? I lay awake, shivering with cold. I felt 



220 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



within me the blank loneliness of the thousands of deso- 
late miles about me. 

One hundred miles of the unknown had been cov- 
ered; five hundred miles of the journey from our winter 
camp were behind us. Beyond, to the goal, lay four 
hundred unknown miles. Nothing dearly desired of 
man ever seemed so far away. 




ESKIMO TORCH 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 

CROSSING THE LEAD — THE THIN ICE HEAVES LIKE A 
SHEET OF RUBBER — CREEPING FORWARD CAU- 
TIOUSLY, THE TWO DANGEROUS MILES ARE COVERED 

BOUNDING PROGRESS MADE OVER IMPROVING ICE 

THE FIRST HURRICANE — DOGS BURIED AND FROZEN 
INTO MASSES IN DRIFTS OF SNOW — THE ICE PARTS 
THROUGH THE IGLOO — WAKING TO FIND ONE'S SELF 
FALLING INTO THE COLD SEA. 

XV 

The First Steps Over the Grinding Central Pack 

111 at ease and shivering, we rose from our crystal 
berths on March 23 and peeped out of a pole-punched 
porthole. A feeble glow of mystic color came from 
everywhere at once. Outside, toward a sky of dull pur- 
ple, columns of steam-like vapor rose from open ice 
water, resembling vapors from huge boiling cauldrons. 
We sank with chattering teeth to our cheerless beds and 
quivered with the ghostly unreality of this great vibrat- 
ing unknown. 

Long before the suppressed incandescent night 
changed to the prism sparkle of day we were out seek- 
ing a way over the miles of insecure young ice sepa- 
rating us from the central pack. On our snowshoes, 
with an easy tread, spread feet and with long life lines 



222 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

tied to each other, we ventured to the opposite shores of 
that dangerous spread of young ice. Beyond, the central 
pack glittered in moving lines and color, like quick- 
silver shot with rainbow hues. 

The Big Lead was mottled and tawny colored, like 
the skin of a great constrictor. As we stood and looked 
over its broad expanse to the solid floes, two miles off, 
there came premonitions to me of impending danger. 
Would the ice bear us? If it broke, and the life line 
was not quickly jerked, our fate would almost certainly 
be sure death. Sontag, the astronomer of Dr. Hay's 
Expedition, thus lost his lif e. Many others have in like 
manner gone to the bottomless deep. On two occasions 
during the previous winter I had thus gone through, but 
the life line had saved me. What would be our fate 
here? But, whatever the luck, we must cross. I knew 
delay was fatal, for at any time a very light wind or a 
change in the drift might break the new ice and delay 
us long enough to set the doom of failure upon our 
entire venture. 

Every precaution was taken to safeguard our lives. 
The most important problem was to distribute the 
weight so that all of it would not be brought to bear on 
a small area. We separated our dog teams from the 
sleds, holding to long lines which were fastened about 
our bodies and also to the sleds. The sleds were hitched 
to each other by another long line. 

With bated breath and my heart thumping, I ad- 
vanced at the end of a long line which was attached to 
the first sled, and picked my way through the crushed 
and difficult ice along shore. With the life-saving 
line fastened to each one of us, we were insured against 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 223 

possible dangers as well as forethought could provide. 
Running from sled to sled, from dog to dog, and man 
to man, it would afford a pulling chance for life should 
anyone break through the ice. It seemed unlikely that 
the ice along the entire chain would break at once, but 
its cracking under the step of one of us seemed probable. 

I knew, as I gently placed my foot upon the thin 
yellowish surface, that at any moment I might sink into 
an icy grave. Yet a spirit of bravado thrilled my heart. 
I felt the grip of danger, and also that thrill of exulta- 
tion which accompanies its terror. 

Gently testing the ice before me with the end of 
my axe, with spread legs, on snowshoes, with long, slid- 
ing steps, I slowly advanced. 

A dangerous cracking sound pealed in every direc- 
tion under my feet. The Eskimos followed. With 
every tread the thin sheet ice perceptibly sank under 
me, and waved, in small billows, like a sheet of rubber. 

Stealthily, as though we were trying to filch some 
victory, we crept forward. We rocked on the heaving 
ice as a boat on waves of water. Now and then we 
stepped upon sheets of thicker ice, and hastily went for- 
ward with secure footing. None of us spoke during the 
dangerous crossing. I heard distinctly the panting of 
the dogs and the patter of their feet. We covered the 
two miles safely, yet our snail-like progress seemed to 
cover many anxious years. 

I cannot describe the exultation which filled me 
when the crossing was accomplished. It seemed as 
though my goal itself were stretching toward me. I ex- 
perienced a sense of unbounded victory. I could have 
cheered with joy. Intoxicated with it, I and my com- 



224 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

panions leaped forward, new cheer quickening our steps. 
The dangers to come seemed less formidable now, and 
as we journeyed onward it was the mastering of these, 
as did our accomplishment in crossing the Big Lead, 
which gave us a daily incentive to continue our way and 
ever to apply brain and muscle to the subduing of even 
greater difficulties with zest. 

It was in doing this that the real thrill, the real 
victory — the only thrill and victory, indeed — of reach- 
ing the North Pole lay. The attaining of this mythical 
spot did not then, and does not now, seem in itself to 
mean anything; I did not then, and do not now, con- 
sider it the treasure-house of any great scientific secrets. 
The only thing to be gained from reaching the Pole, the 
triumph of it, the lesson in the accomplishment, is that 
man, by brain power and muscle energy, can subdue the 
most terrific forces of a blind nature if he is determined 
enough, courageous enough, and undauntedly persistent 
despite failure. 

On my journey northward I felt the ever constant 
presence of those who had died in trying to reach the 
goal before me. There were times when I felt a startling 
nearness to them — a sense like that one has of the prox- 
imity of living beings in an adjoining room. I felt the 
goad of their hopes within me ; I felt the steps of their 
dead feet whenever my feet touched the ice. I felt their 
unfailing determination revive me when I was tempted 
to turn back in the days of inhuman suffering that were 
to come. I felt that I, the last man to essay this goal, 
must for them justify humanity; that I must crown three 
centuries of human effort with success. 

With the perilous Big Lead behind us, a bounding 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 225 

course was set to reach the eighty-fifth parallel on the 
ninety-seventh meridian. What little movement was 
noted on the ice had been easterly. To allow for this 
drift we aimed to keep a line slightly west of the Pole. 

We bounded northward joyously. Under our 
speeding feet the ice reverberated and rumbled with the 
echo of far-away splitting and crashing. 

The sun sank into a haze like mother-of-pearl. Our 
pathway glowed with purple and orange. We paused 
only when the pale purple blue of night darkened the 
pack. 

Starting forward in the afternoon of March 24, 
we crossed many small floes with low-pressure lines 
separated by narrow belts of new ice. Our speed in- 
creased. At times we could hardly keep pace with our 
dogs. The temperature rose to forty-one below zero. 
The western sky cleared slightly. Along the horizon 
remained misty appearances resembling land. This 
low-lying fog continued during our entire second hun- 
dred miles over the Polar basin. Under it we daily 
expected to see new land. 

But Nature did not satisfy our curiosity for a long 
time. Both Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shook were sure 
of a constant nearness to land. Because of the native 
panic out of its reassuring sight, I encouraged this belief, 
as I did concerning every other possible sign of land 
further northward. I knew that only by encouraging a 
delusion of nearness to land could I urge them ever 
farther in the face of the hardships that must inevitably 
come. 

An altitude of the sun at noon on March 24 gave 
our position as latitude 83° 31'. The longitude was 



226 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

estimated at 96° 27'. The land clouds of Grant Land 
were still visible. The low bank of mist in the west 
occasionally brightened. For a while I believed this to 
be an indication of Crocker Land. 

Until midday I took observations and endeavored 
to study the appearances of land. Our dogs sniffed the 
air as if scenting game. After a diligent search, one 
seal blow-hole was located, and later we saw an old bear 
track. No algae or other small life was detected in the 
water between the ice crevices. At the Big Lead a few 
algas had been gathered. But here the sea seemed 
sterile. Signs of seal and bear, however, were encour- 
aging to us as possible future food supply. In return- 
ing, I calculated the season would be more advanced, 
and it was possible that life might move northward, thus 
permitting an extension of the time allowance of our 
rations. 

Although the heat of the sun was barely felt, its 
rays began to pierce our eyes with painful effects. Re- 
flected from the spotless surface of the storm-driven 
snows, the bright light could not long be endured with- 
out some protection, even by the Eskimos. Now came 
the time to test a simple expedient that had occurred to 
me at Annoatok. Amber-colored goggles, darkened or 
smoked glasses and ordinary automobile goggles had all 
been tried with indifferent results. They failed for one 
reason or another, mostly because of an insufficient 
range of vision or because of a faulty construction that 
made it impossible to proceed more than a few minutes 
without removing the accumulated condensation within 
them. At Annoatok I had made amber-colored gog- 
gles from the glass of my photographic supplies. By 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 227 

adjusting them I soon found they were a priceless dis- 
covery. They entirely eliminated one of the greatest 
torments of Arctic travel. 

While effectually screening the active rays that 
would have in jured the eye, these amber glasses at the 
same time possessed the inestimable advantage of not 
interfering with the range of vision. 

Relieved of the snow glare, the eye was better en- 
abled to see distant objects than through field glasses. 
It is frequently extremely difficult to detect icy surface 
irregularities on cloudy days. The amber glass dis- 
pelled this trouble perfectly, enabling the eye to search 
carefully every nook and crevice through the vague in- 
candescence which blinds the observer in hazy weather. 
The glasses did not reduce the quantity of light, as do 
smoked glasses, but the quality; the actinic rays, which 
do the greatest harm, were eliminated. We were not 
only relieved of the pain and fatigue of eye strain, but 
the color imparted a touch of cheer and warmth to our 
chilled blue horizon. The usual snow goggles add to 
the ugly gray-blue of the frozen seas, which alone sends 
frosty waves through the nervous fibers. 

So thoroughly delighted were we with these goggles 
that later we wore them even in igloos while asleep, with 
the double object of screening the strong light which 
passes through the eyelids and of keeping the forehead 
warm. 

On our march in the early part of the afternoon of 
the 24th the weather proved good. The ice, though 
newly crevassed, improved as we advanced. The late 
start spread our day's work close to the chill of mid- 
night. When we started the wind blew kindly. With 



228 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

glad hearts we forged forward without delays. On the 
ice I heard the soft patter of swift dog feet and the dash- 
ing, cutting progress of the sleds. As a scene viewed 
from a carousel, the field of ice swept around me in our 
dizzy, twisting progress. We swept resistlessly onward 
for twenty-three miles. As we had taken a zigzag 
course to follow smooth ice, I therefore recorded only 
eighteen miles to our credit. 

The night was beautiful. The sun sank into a pur- 
ple haze. Soon, in the magic of the atmosphere, 
appeared three suns of prismatic colors. These settled 
slowly into the frozen sea and disappeared behind that 
persistent haze of obscuring mist which always rests over 
the pack when the sun is low. During the night a nar- 
row band of orange was flung like a ribbon across the 
northern skies. The pack surface glowed with varying 
shades of violet, lilac and pale purplish blue. Many 
such splendid sights are to be constantly seen in the 
Arctic. Although I reveled in it now, the time was 
soon to come when weariness and hunger numbed my 
faculties into a dreary torpor in which the splendor was 
not seen. 

Signs appeared of a gale from the west before we 
were quite ready to camp. Little sooty clouds with 
ragged edges suddenly began to cover the sky, scurrying 
at an alarming pace. Beyond us a huge smoky volume 
of cloud blackened the pearly glitter. 

Suitable camping ice was sought. In the course of 
an hour we built an igloo. We made the structure 
stronger than usual on account of the threatening storm. 
We constructed double tiers of snow blocks to the wind- 
ward. A little water was thrown over the top to cement 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 229 

the blocks. We fastened the dogs to the lee of hum- 
mocks. The sleds were securely lashed and fastened to 
the ice. 

We expected a hurricane, and had not to wait to 
taste its fury. Before we were at rest in our bags the 
wind lashed the snows with a force inconceivable. With 
rushing drift, the air thickened. Dogs and sleds in a 
few minutes were buried under banks of snow and great 
drifts encircled the igloo. The cemented blocks of our 
dome withstood the sweep of the blast well. Yet, now 
and then, small holes were burrowed through the snow 
wall by the sharp wind. Drift entered and covered us. 
I lay awake for hours. I felt the terrible oppression of 
that raging, life-sucking vampire force sweeping over 
the desolate world. Disembodied things — the souls of 
those, perhaps, who had perished here — seemed fren- 
ziedly calling me in the wind. I felt under me the surge 
of the sweeping, awful sea. I felt the desolation of this 
stormy world within my shuddering soul; but, withal, I 
throbbed with a determination to assert the supremacy 
of living man over these blind, insensate forces ; to prove 
that the living brain and palpitating muscle of a finite 
though conscious creature could vanquish a hostile 
Nature which creates to kill. I burned to justify those 
who had died here; to fulfill by proxy their hopes; to 
set their calling souls at rest. The storm waked in me 
an angry, challenging determination. 

Early in the morning of the 25th the storm ceased 
as suddenly as it had come. A stillness followed which 
was appalling. It seemed as if the storm had heard my 
thoughts and paused to contemplate some more dreadful 
onslaught. The dogs began to howl desperately, as if 



230 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

attacked by a bear. We rushed out of our igloo, seek- 
ing guns. There was no approaching creature. It 
was, however, a signal of serious distress that we had 
heard. The dogs were in acute misery. The storm- 
driven snows had buried and bound them in unyielding 
ice. They had partly uncovered themselves. United 
by trace and harness, they were imprisoned in frozen 
masses. Few of them could even rise and stretch. They 
were in severe torment. 

We hurriedly freed their traces and beat the 
cemented snows from their furs with sticks. Released, 
they leaped about gladly, their cries, curling tails and 
pointed noses telling of gratitude. While we danced 
about, stretching our limbs and rubbing our hands to get 
up circulation, the sun rose over the northern blue, flush- 
ing the newly driven snows with warm tones. The tem- 
perature during the storm had risen to only 26° below, 
but soon the thermometer sank rapidly below 40°. The 
west was still smoky and the weather did not seem quite 
settled. As it was still too early to start, we again 
slipped into the bags and sought quiet slumber. 

As yet the dreadful insomnia which was to rob me 
of rest on my journey had not come, and I slept with the 
blissful soundness of a child. I must have been asleep 
several hours, when, of a sudden, I opened my eyes. 

Terror gripped my heart. Loud explosive noises 
reverberated under my head. It seemed as though 
bombs were torn asunder in the depths of the cold sea 
beneath me. I lay still, wondering if I were dreaming. 
The sounds echoingly died away. Looking about the 
igloo, I detected nothing unusual. I saw Ah-we-lah 
and E-tuk-i-shook staring at me with wide-open fright- 



CROSSING MOVING SEAS OF ICE 231 

ened eyes. I arose and peeped through the eye port. 
The fields of ice without reflected the warm light of the 
rising sun in running waves of tawny color. The ice 
was undisturbed. An unearthly quiet prevailed. Con- 
cluding that the ice was merely cracking under the sud- 
den change of temperature, in quite the usual harmless 
manner, I turned over again, reassuring my companions, 
and promptly fell asleep. 

Out of the blankness of sleep I suddenly wakened 
again. Half-dazed, I heard beneath me a series of 
echoing, thundering noises. I felt the ice floor on which 
I lay quivering. I experienced the sudden giddiness 
one feels on a tossing ship at sea. In the flash of a sec- 
ond I saw Ah-we-lah leap to his feet. In the same dizzy 
instant I saw the dome of the snowhouse open above me; 
I caught a vision of the gold-streaked sky. My instinct 
at the moment was to leap. I think I tried to rise, when 
suddenly everything seemed hf ted from tinder me ; I ex- 
perienced the suffocating sense of falling, and next, with 
a spasm of indescribable horror, felt about my body a 
terrific tightening pressure like that of a chilled and clos- 
ing shell of steel, driving the hf e and breath from me. 

In an instant it was clear what had happened. A 
crevasse had suddenly opened through our igloo, 
directly under the spot whereon I slept; and I, a helpless 
creature in a sleeping bag, with tumbling snow blocks 
and ice and snow crashing about and crushing me, with 
the temperature 48° below zero, was floundering in the 
opening sea! 



LAND DISCOVERED 

FIGHTING PROGRESS THROUGH CUTTING COLD AND TER- 
RIFIC STORMS — LIFE BECOMES A MONOTONOUS ROU- 
TINE OF HARDSHIP THE POLE INSPIRES WITH ITS 

REISISTLESS LURE NEW LAND DISCOVERED BEYOND 

THE EIGHTY-FOURTH PARALLEL MORE THAN TWO 

HUNDRED MILES FROM SVARTEVOEG THE FIRST SIX 

HUNDRED MILES COVERED 

XVI 

Three Hundred Miles to the Apex of the World 

I think I was about to swoon when I felt hands 
beneath my armpits and heard laughter in my ears. 
With an adroitness such as only these natives possess, 
my two companions were dragging me from the water. 
And while I lay panting on the ice, recovering 
from my fright, I saw them expeditiously rescue our 
possessions. 

It seemed that all this happened so quickly that 
I had really been in the water only a few moments. My 
two companions saw the humor of the episode and 
laughed heartily. Although I had been in the water 
only a brief time, a sheet of ice surrounded my sleeping 
bag. Fortunately, however, the reindeer skin was 
found to be quite dry when the ice was beaten off. The 
experience, while momentarily terrifying, was instruc- 



LAND DISCOVERED 283 

tive, for it taught us the danger of spreading ice, espe- 
cially in calms following storms. 

Gratitude filled my heart. I fully realized how 
narrow had been the escape of all of us. Had we slept 
a few seconds longer we should all have disappeared in 
the opening crevasse. The hungry Northland would 
again have claimed its human sacrifice. 

The ice about was much disturbed. Numerous 
black fines of water opened on every side; from these 
oozed jets of frosty, smoke-colored vapor. The differ- 
ence between the temperature of the sea and that of the 
air was 76°. With this contrast, the open spots of ice- 
water appeared to be boiling. 

Anxious to move along, away from the troubled 
angle of ice, our usual breakfast was simplified. Melt- 
ing some snow, we drank the icy liquid as an eye-opener, 
and began our ration of a half-pound boulder of pem- 
mican. But with cold fingers, blue lips and no possible 
shelter, the stuff was unusually hard. To warm up, we 
prepared the sleds. Under our lashes the dogs jumped 
into harness with a bound. The pemmican, which we 
really found too hard to eat, had to be first broken into 
pieces with an axe. We ground it slowly with our 
molars as we trudged along. Our teeth chattered while 
the stomach was thus being fired with durable fuel. 

As we advanced the ice improved to some extent. 
With a little search safe crossings were found over new 
crevices. A strong westerly wind blew piercingly cold. 

Good progress was made, but we did not forget at 
any time that we were invading the forbidden domains 
of a new polar environment. 

Henceforth, one day was to be much like another. 



234 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Beyond the eighty-third parallel life is devoid of any 
pleasure. The intense objective impressions of cold 
and hunger assailing the body rob even the mind of in- 
spiration and exhilaration. Even the best day of sun 
and gentle wind offers no balm. 

One awakes realizing the wind has abated and sees 
the cheerless sun veering about the side of the ice shelter. 
One kicks the victim upon whom, that morning, duty has 
fixed the misfortune to be up first — for we tried to be 
equals in sharing the burdens of life. And upon him 
to whose lot falls this hardship there is a loss of two 
hours' repose. He chops ice, fills the kettles, lights 
the fire, and probably freezes his fingers in doing so. 
Then he wiggles back into his bag, warms his icy hands 
on the bare skin of his own stomach ; or, if he is in a two- 
man bag, and the other fellow is awake, Arctic courtesy 
permits the icy hands on the stomach of his bedfellow. 

In due time the blood runs to the hand and he sets 
about tidying up the camp. First, the hood of his own 
bag. It is loaded with icicles and frost, the result of 
the freezing of his breath while asleep. He brushes off 
the ice and snow. The ice has settled in the kettles in 
the meantime. More ice must be chopped and put into 
the kettle. The chances are that he now breaks a 
commandment and steals what to us is a great luxury — 
a long drink of water to ease his parched throat. Be- 
cause of the need of fuel economy, limit is placed on 
drinks. 

Then the fire needs attention ; the flame is imperfect 
and the gas hole needs cleaning. He thoughtlessly 
grips the little bit of metal to the end of which the prim- 
ing needle is attached. That metal is so cold that it 



LAND DISCOVERED 235 

burns, and he leaves a piece of his skin on it. Then 
the breakfast ration of pemmican must be divided. It 
is not frozen, for it contains no water. But it is hard. 
The stuff looks like granite. Heat would melt it 
— but there is no fuel to spare. The two slumberers 
are given a thump, and their eyes open to the stone-like 
pemmican. Between yawns the teeth are set to grind 
the pemmican. The water boils, the tea is tossed in it 
and the kettle is removed. 

We rise on elbows, still in the bags, to enjoy the 
one heavenly treat of our lives, the cup of tea which 
warms the hand and the stomach at once. 

Then we dress. It is remarkable how cold compels 
speed in dressing. 

The door of the snowhouse is now kicked out — all 
tumble about to warm up and stop chattering teeth. 
Breaking camp is a matter of but a minute, for things 
fall almost automatically into convenient packs. The 
sledges are loaded and lashed in a few minutes. Then 
the teams are gathered to the pulling lines, and off we 
go with a run. The pace for dog and man is two and a 
half miles an hour, over good ice or bad ice, hard snow 
or soft snow, or tumbling over neckbreaking irregulari- 
ties. There is no stop for lunch, no riding, or rest, or 
anything else. It is drive — drive. 

At times it was impossible to perspire, and the toxin 
of fatigue, generating unearthly weariness, filled the 
brain with fag. When perspiration oozed from our 
pores, as we forced forward, step by step, it froze in the 
garments and the warmer portions of our bodies were 
ringed with snow. Daily, unremittingly, this was our 
agony. 



236 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

In starting before the end of the winter night, and 
camping on the open ice fields in the long northward 
march, we had first accustomed our eyes to frigid dark- 
ness and then to a perpetual glitter. This proved to be 
the coldest season of the year, and we ought to have 
been hardened to all kinds of Arctic torment. But man 
gains that advantage only when his pulse ceases to beat. 

Continuing the steady stride of forward marches, 
far from land, far from lif e, there was nothing to arouse 
a warming spirit. Along the land there had been calms 
and gales and an inspiring contrast, even in the dark 
days and nights, but here the frigid world was felt at its 
worst. The wind, which came persistently from the 
west — now strong, now feeble, but always sharp — in- 
flicted a pain to which we never became accustomed. 

The worst torture inflicted by the wind and humid 
air of an Arctic pack came from a mask of ice about the 
face. It was absurdly picturesque but painful. Every 
bit of exhaled moisture condensed and froze either to 
the facial hair or to the line of fox tails about the hood. 
It made comical caricatures of us. 

Frequent turns in our course exposed both sides of 
the face to the wind and covered with icicles every hair 
offering a convenient nucleus. These lines of crystal 
made an amazing dash of light and color as we looked at 
each other. But they did not afford much amusement 
to the individual exhibiting them. Such hairs as had 
not been pulled from the lips and chin were first 
weighted, and then the wind carried the breath to the 
long hair with which we protected our heads, and left a 
mass of dangling frost. Accumulated moisture from 
the eyes coated the eyelashes and brows. The humidity 



LAND DISCOVERED 237 

escaping about the forehead left a crescent of snow 
above, while that escaping under the chin, combined with 
falling breath, formed there a semi-circle of ice. The 
most uncomfortable icicles, however, were those that 
formed on the coarse hair within the nostrils. To keep 
the face free, the Eskimos pull the facial hair out by the 
roots, the result of which is a rarity of mustaches and 
beards. Thus, with low temperature and persistent 
winds, life was one of constant torture on the march; 
but cooped in snowhouses, eating dried beef and tallow, 
and drinking hot tea, some animal comforts were occa- 
sionally to be gained in the icy camps. 

We forced the dogs onward during two days of 
cheery bluster, with encouraging results. At times we 
ran before the teams, calling and urging the brutes to 
leaping progress. On the evening of March 26, with 
a pedometer and other methods of dead reckoning for 
position, we found ourselves at latitude 84° 24', longi- 
tude 96° 53'. 

The western horizon remained persistently dark. 
A storm was gathering, and slowly moving eastward. 
Late in the evening we prepared for the anticipated 
blast. We built an igloo stronger than usual, hoping 
that the horizon would be cleared with a brisk wind by 
the morrow and afford us a day of rest. The long, steady 
marches, without time for recuperation, necessarily 
dampened our enthusiam for a brief period of physical 
depression, which, however, was of short duration. 

Daily we had learned to appreciate more and more 
the joy of the sleeping bag. It was the only animal 
comfort which afforded a relief to our life of frigid 
hardship, and often with the thought of it we tried to 



238 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

force upon the weary body in the long marches a pleas- 
ing anticipation. 

In the evening, after blocks of snow walled a dome 
in which we could breathe quiet air, the blue-flame lamp 
sang notes of gastronomic delights. We first indulged in 
a heaven-given drink of ice-water to quench the intense 
thirst which comes after hours of exertion and perspira- 
tion. Then the process of undressing began, one at 
a time, for there was not room enough in the igloo for 
all to undress at once. 

The fur-stuffed boots were pulled off and the bear- 
skin pants were stripped. Then half of the body was 
quickly pushed into the bag. A brick of pemmican was 
next taken out and the teeth were set to grind on this 
bone-like substance. Our appetites were always keen, 
but a half pound of cold withered beef and tallow 
changes a hungry man's thoughts effectually. 

The tea, an hour in making, was always welcome, 
and we rose on elbows to take it. Under the influence 
of the warm drink, the fur coat with its mask of ice was 
removed. Next the shirt, with its ring of ice about the 
waist, would come off, giving the last sense of shivering. 
Pushing the body farther into the bag, the hood was 
pulled over the face, and we were lost to the world 

of ice. 

The warm sense of mental and physical pleasure 
which f oUows is ah interesting study. The movement of 
others, the sting of the air, the noise of torturing winds, 
the blinding rays of a heatless sun, the pains of driving 
snows and all the bitter elements are absent. One's 
mind, freed of anxiety and suffering, wanders to home 
and better times under these peculiar circumstances; 



LAND DISCOVERED 239 

there comes a pleasurable sensation in the touch of one's 
own warm skin, while the companionship of the arms 
and legs, freed from their cumbersome furs, makes a 
new discovery in the art of getting next to one's self. 

Early on March 27, a half gale was blowing, but at 
noon the wind ceased. The bright sun and rising tem- 
perature were too tempting to let us remain quiescent. 
Although the west was still dark with threatening 
clouds we hitched the dogs to the sleds. We braced 
ourselves. "Huk ! Huk !" we called, and bounded away 
among the wind-swept hummocks. The crevices of the 
ice wound like writhing snakes as we raced on. We 
had not gone many miles before the first rush of the 
storm struck us. Throwing ourselves over the sleds, we 
waited the passing of the icy blast. No suitable snow 
with which to begin the erection of a shelter was near. 
A few miles northward, as we saw, was a promising area 
for a camp. This we hoped to reach after a few 
moments' rest. The squall soon spent its force. In 
the wind which followed good progress was made with- 
out suffering severely. The temperature was 41° below 
zero, Fahrenheit, and the barometer 29.05. 

Once in moving order, the drivers required very 
little encouragement to prolong the effort to a fair day's 
march despite the weather. As the sun settled in the 
western gloom the wind increased in fury and forced 
us to camp. Before the igloo was finished a steady, 
rasping wind brushed the hummocks and piled the snow 
in large dunes about us, like the sand of home shores. 

The snowhouse was not cemented as usual with 
water, as was our custom when weather permitted. The 
tone of the wind did not seem to indicate danger, and 



240 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

furthermore, there was no open sea water near. Be- 
cause of the need of fuel economy we did not deem it 
prudent to use oil for fire to melt snow, excepting for 
water to quench thirst. 

Not particularly anxious about the outcome of the 
storm, and with senses blunted by overwork and be- 
numbed with cold, we sought the comfort of the bags. 
Awakened in the course of a few hours by drifts of 
snow about our feet, I noted that the wind had burrowed 
holes at weak spots through the snow wall. We were 
bound, however, not to be cheated of a few hours' sleep, 
and with one eye open we turned over. I was awakened 
by falling snow blocks soon after. 

Forcing my head out of my ice-encased fur hood, 
I saw the sky, cloud-swept and grey. The dome of the 
igloo had been swept away. We were being quickly 
buried under a dangerous weight of snow. In some way 
I had tossed about sufficiently during sleep to keep on 
top of the accumulating drift, but my companions were 
nowhere to be seen. About me for miles the white 
spaces were vacant. With dread in my heart I uttered a 
loud call, but there came no response. 

A short frenzied search revealed a blowhole in the 
snow. In response to another call, as from some sub- 
terranean place came muffled Eskimo shouts. Tearing 
and burrowing at the fallen snow blocks I made violent 
efforts to free them, buried as they were in their bags. 
But to my dismay the soft snow settled on them tighter 
with each tussle. 

I was surprised, a few moments later, as I was 
working to keep their breathing place open, to feel them 
burrowing through the snow. They had entered their 



LAND DISCOVERED 241 

bags without undressing. Half clothed in shirt and 
pants, but with bare feet, they writhed and wriggled 
through the bags and up through the breathing hole. 

After a little digging their boots were uncovered, 
and then, with protected feet, the bag was freed and 
placed at the side of the igloo. 

Into it the boys crept, fully dressed, with the excep- 
tion of coats. I rolled out beside them in my bag. We 
lay in the open sweep of furious wind, impotent to 
move, for twenty-nine hours. Only then the frigid blast 
eased enough to enable us to creep out into the open. 
The air came in hissing spouts, like jets of steam from 
an engine. 

Soon after noon of March 29 the air brightened. 
It became possible to breathe without being choked 
with floating crystals, and as the ice about our facial 
furs was broken, a little blue patch was detected in the 
west. We now freed the dogs of their snow entangle- 
ment and fed them. A shelter was made in which to 
melt snow and brew tea. We ate a double ration. 

Hitching the dogs we raced off. The monotonous 
fields of snow swept under us. Soon the sun burst 
through separating clouds and upraised icy spires be- 
fore us. The wind died away. A crystal glory trans- 
figured the storm-swept fields. We seemed traveling 
over fields of diamonds, scintillant as white fire, which 
shimmered dazzlingly about us. It is curious to observe 
an intense fiery glitter and glow, as in the North, which 
gives absolutely no impression of warmth. Fire here 
seems cold. With full stomachs, fair weather and a much 
needed rest, we moved with renewed inspiration. The 
dogs ran with tails erect, ears pricked. I and my com- 



242 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

panions ran behind with the joy of contestants in a race. 
Indeed, we felt refreshed as one does after a cold bath. 

Considerable time and distance, however, were lost 
in seeking a workable line of travel about obstructions 
and making detours. Camping at midnight, we had 
made only nine miles by a day's effort. The conditions 
under which this second hundred miles were forced, 
proved to be in every respect the most exciting of the 
run of five hundred miles over the Polar sea. The mere 
human satisfaction of overcoming difficulties was a daily 
incentive to surmount obstacles and meet baffling 
problems. The weather was unsettled. Sudden storms 
broke with spasmodic force, the barometer was unsteady 
and the temperature ranged from 20° below zero to 60° 
below zero. The ice showed signs of recent agitation. 

New leads and recent sheets of new ice combined 
with deep snow made travel difficult. Persistently on- 
ward, pausing at times, we would urge the dogs to the 
limit. One dog after another went into the stomachs 
of the hungry survivors. Camps were now swept by 
storms. The ice opened out under our bodies, shelter 
was often a mere hole in the snow bank. Each of us 
carried painful wounds, frost bites ; and the ever chronic 
emptiness of half filled stomachs brought a gastric call 
for food, impossible to supply. Hard work and strong 
winds sent unquenched thirst tortures to burning throats, 
and the gloom of ever clouded skies sent despair to its 
lowest reaches. 

But there was no monotony; our tortures came 
from different angles, and from so many sources, that 
we were ever aroused to a fighting spirit. With a push 
at the sled or a pull at the line we helped the wind-teased 



LAND DISCOVERED 24S 

dogs to face the nose cutting drift that swept the pack 
mile after mile. Day after day we plunged farther and 
farther along into the icy despair and stormy bluster. 

Throughout the entire advance northward I found 
there was some advantage in my Eskimo companions 
having some slight comprehension of the meaning of 
my aim. Doubtless through information and ideas that 
had sifted from explorers to Eskimos for many genera- 
tions past, the aborigines had come to understand that 
there is a point at the top of the globe, which is some- 
how the very top of the world, and that at this summit 
there is something which white men have long been 
anxious to find — a something which the Eskimo describe 
as the "big nail." The feeling that they were setting 
out with me in the hope of being the first to find this 
"big nail" — for, of course, I had told them of the possi- 
bility — helped to keep up the interest and courage of 
my two companions during long days of hardship. 

Naturally enough, I could not expect their interest 
in the Pole itself to be great. Their promised reward 
for accompanying me, a gun and knife for each, main- 
tained a lively interest in them. After a ceaseless war- 
fare lasting seven days, on March 30 the eastern sky 
broke in fines of cheering blue. Whipped by low winds 
the clouds broke and scurried. 

Soon the western heavens, ever a blank mystery, 
cleared. Under it, to my surprise, lay a new land. I 
think I felt a thrill such as Columbus must have felt 
when the first green vision of America loomed before 
his eye. 

My promise to the good, trusty boys of nearness to 
land was unwittingly on my part made good, and the 



244 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

delight of eyes opened to the earth's northernmost rocks 
dispelled all the physical torture of the long run of 
storms. As well as I could see, the land seemed an in- 
terrupted coast extending parallel to the line of march 
for about fifty miles, far to the west. It was snow 
covered, ice-sheeted and desolate. But it was real land 
with all the sense of security solid earth can offer. To 
us that meant much, for we had been adrift in a moving 
sea of ice, at the mercy of tormenting winds. Now came, 
of course, the immediate impelling desire to set foot 
upon it, but to do so I knew would have side-tracked 
us from our direct journey to the Polar goal. In any 
case, delay was jeopardous, and, moreover, our food 
supply did not permit our taking time to inspect the 
new land.* 



* After my return to Copenhagen I was widely quoted as declaring that 
I had discovered and traversed 30,000 square miles of new land. What I 
did report was that in my journey I had passed through an area wherein 
it was possible to declare 30,000 square miles — a terrestrial unknown of 
water and ice — cleared from the blank of our charts. I have been quoted 
as describing this land as "a paradise for hunters" and criticised on the 
ground that animal life does not exist so far north. Whether animal life 
existed there, I do not know, for the impetus of my quest left no time to 
investigate. I passed the last game at Heiberg Land. 

In my diary of the day's doings, only the results of observations were 
written down. The detail calculations were made on loose sheets of paper 
and in other note books — wherein was recorded all instrumental data. Later 
all my observations were reduced in the form in which they were to be 
finally presented. Therefore, these field papers with their miscellaneous 
notes had served their purpose, as had the instruments; and for this reason 
most of the material was left with Harry Whitney. A few of the im- 
portant calculations were kept more as a curiosity. These will be pre- 
sented as we go along. Those left I thought might later be useful for a 
re-examination of the results; but it never occurred to me that Whitney 
would be forced to bury the material, as he was by Peary. I do not regard 
those buried notes as being proof or as being particularly valuable, except 
as proving Peary to be one of the most ungracious and selfish characters 
in history. 

In the subsequent excitement, because Peary cried fraud on the very 
papers which he had buried for me, an agitated group of American arm- 
chair explorers came to the conclusion against the dictates of history that 
the proof of the Polar quest was to be found in the re-examination of the 
figures of the observations for position. 




BRADLEY LAND DISCOVERED 
SUBMERGED ISLAND OF POLAR SEA 
GOING BEYOND THE BOUNDS OF LIFE 



LAND DISCOVERED 245 

This new land was never clearly seen. A low mist, 
seemingly from open water, hid the shore line. We saw 
the upper slopes only occasionally from our point of 
observation. There were two distinct land masses. The 
most southern cape of the southern mass bore west by 
south, but still further to the south there were vague 
indications of land. The most northern cape of the 
same mass bore west by north. Above it there was a 

Part of mine were buried. Peary had his. Thus handicapped, because 
blocks of my field calculations were absent, with the instruments and 
chronometer corrections, I rested my case at Copenhagen on a report, the 
original notes giving the brief tabulations of the day's doings, and the 
complete set of reduced observations. 

My friends have criticised me for not sending the data given below 
and similar observations to Copenhagen to prove my claim, but I did not 
deem it worth while to present more, taking the ground that if in this 
there was not sufficient material to explain the movement step by step of 
the Polar quest, then no academic examination could be of any value. This 
viewpoint, as I see it at present, was a mistake. I am now presenting 
every scrap of paper and every isolated fact, not as proof but as part of 
the record of the expedition, with due after-thought, and the better per- 
spective afforded by time. Every explorer does this. Upon such a record 
history has always given its verdict of the value of an explorer's work. 
It will do the same in estimating the relative merits of the Polar quest. 

Observation as figured out in original field paper for March 30, 1908: 

Longitude 95.36. Bar. 30.10 had risen from 29.50 in 2 hours. Temp. —34°. 
Wind 2. Mag. N. E. Clouds Mist W.- Water bands E. 



95% 
4 


Noon, 
~0~ 

I.E. 
R.&P. 


18—46—10 
18—48—20 


60 { 382 
6—22 


2 | 37—34—30 
18—47—15 

+2 


£8 


2 | 18—49—15 
9—24—38 
—16— 2 


29 
348 


9— 8—36 
— 9 


60 | 377 

6—17 
3 — 43—15 
S--49— 32 


8—59—36 
90 
81—00—24 

3—49—32 



84—49—56 

Shadows 39 ft. (of tent pole 6 ft. above snow). 
(Directions Magnetic.) 



S46 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

distinct break for 15 or 20 miles, and beyond the north- 
ern mass extended above the eighty-fifth parallel to the 
northwest. The entire coast was at this time placed on 
our charts as having a shore line along the one hundred 
and second meridian, approximately parallel to our line 
of travel. At the time the indications suggested two 
distinct islands. Nevertheless, we saw so little of 
the land that we could not determine whether it con- 
sisted of islands or of a larger mainland. The lower 
coast resembled Heiberg Island, with mountains and 
high valleys. The upper coast I estimated as being 
about one thousand feet high, flat, and covered with a 
thin sheet ice. Over the land I write "Bradley Land" 
in honor of John R. Bradley, whose generous help had 
made possible the important first stage of the expedi- 
tion. The discovery of this land gave an electric im- 
petus of driving vigor at just the right moment to 
counterbalance the effect of the preceding week of 
storm and trouble. 

Although I gazed longingly and curiously at the 
land, to me the Pole was the pivot of ambition. My 
boys had not the same northward craze, but I told them 
to reach the land on our return might be possible. We 

Because of the impossibility of making correct allowances for refrac- 
tion, I have made a rough allowance of — 9' for refraction and parallax 
in all my observations. 

The tent pole was a hickory floor slat of one of the sledges. It was 
6 ft. 6 ins. high, 2 ins. wide, and % in. thick. This stick was marked in 
feet and inches, to be used as a measuring stick. It also served as a 
paddle and steering oar for the boat. 

By pressing this tent pole 6 ins. into the snow, it served as a 6 ft. 
pole to measure the shadows. These measurements were recorded on the 
observation blanks. Absolute accuracy for the measurements is not 
claimed, because of the difficulty of determining the line of demarcation 
in long, indistinct shadows; but future efforts will show that my shadow 
measurements are an important check on all sun observations by which 
latitude and longitude are determined. 



LAND DISCOVERED 



247 



never saw it again. This new land made a convenient 
mile-post, for from this time on the days were counted to 
and from it. A good noon sight fixed the point of obser- 
vation to 84° 50', longitude 95° 36". We had forced 
beyond the second hundred miles from Svartevoeg. Be- 
fore us remained about three hundred more miles, to 
my alluring, mysterious goal. 




ABCTIC FOX 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 

WITH A NEW SPRING TO WEARY LEGS BRADLEY LAND IS 

LEFT BEHIND FEELING THE ACHING VASTNESS OF 

THE WORLD BEFORE MAN WAS MADE CURIOUS 

GRIMACES OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN SUFFERINGS IN- 
CREASE BY PERSISTENT AND LABORIOUS PROGRESS 

ANOTHER HUNDRED MILES IS COVERED 

XVII 

Two Hundred Miles From The Pole 

A curtain of mist was drawn over the new land in 
the afternoon of March 31, and, although we gazed 
westward longingly, we saw no more of it. Day after 
day we now pushed onward in desperate northward 
efforts. Strong winds and fractured, irregular ice, in- 
creased our difficulties. Although progress was slow 
for several days we managed to gain a fair march be- 
tween storms during each twenty-four hours. During 
occasional spells of icy stillness mirages spread screens 
of fantasy out for our entertainment. Curious cliffs, 
odd-shaped mountains and inverted ice walls were dis- 
played in attractive colors. 

Discoveries of new land seemed often made. But 
with a clearing horizon the deception was detected. 

The boys believed most of these signs to be indica- 
tions of real land — a belief I persistently encouraged, 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 249 

because it relieved them of the panic of the terror of the 
unknown. 

On April 3, the barometer remained steady and 
the thermometer sank. The weather became settled and 
fairly clear, the horizon was freed of its smoky vapors, 
the pack assumed a more permanent aspect of glittering 
color. At noon there was now a dazzling light, while 
at night the sun kissed the frozen seas behind screens 
of mouse-colored cloud and haze. At the same moment 
the upper skies flushed with the glow of color of the 
coming double-days of joy. 

As we advanced north of Bradley Land the pack 
disturbance of land-divided and land- jammed ice dis- 
appeared. The fields became larger and less trouble- 
some, the weather improved, the temperature ranged 
from 20° to 50° below zero, the barometer rose and 
remained steady, the day sky cleared with increasing 
color, but a low haze blotted out much of the night glory 
which attended the dip of the nocturnal sun. With 
dogs barking and rushing before speeding sleds, we 
made swift progress. But the steady drag and mo- 
notony of the never changing work and scene reduced 
interest in life. 

The blankness of the mental desert which moved 
about us as we ran along was appalling. Nothing 
changed materially. The horizon moved. Our footing 
was seemingly a solid stable ice crust, which was, how- 
ever, constantly shifting eastward. All the world on 
which we traveled was in motion. We moved, but we 
took our landscape with us. 

At the end of the day's march we were often too 
tired to build snow houses, and in sheer exhaustion we 



250 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

bivouacked in the lee of hummocks. Here the over- 
worked body called for sleep, but my mind refused to 
close the eyes. My boys had the advantage of sleep. 
I envied them. Anyone who has suffered from in- 
somnia may be able in a small degree to gauge my 
condition when sleep became impossible. To reach the 
end of my journey became the haunting, ever-present 
goading thought of my wakeful existence. 

As I lay painfully trying to coax slumber, my mind 
worked like the wheels of a machine. Dizzily the jour- 
ney behind repeated itself; I again crossed the Big 
Lead, again floundered in an ice-cold open sea. Dangers 
of all sorts took form to harass me. Instead of sleep, a 
delirium of anxiety and longing possessed me. 

Beyond the eighty-fourth parallel we had passed 
the bounds of visible life. Lying wakeful in that barren 
world, with my companions asleep, I felt what few men 
of cities, perhaps, ever feel — the tragic isolation of the 
human soul — a thing which, dwelt upon, must mean 
madness. I think I realized the aching vastness of the 
world after creation, before man was made. 

For many days we had not seen a suggestion of 
animated nature. There were no longer animal trails 
to indicate life; no breath spouts of seal escaped from 
the frosted bosom of the sea. Not even the microscopic 
life of the deep was longer detected under us. We were 
alone — alone in a lifeless world. We had come to this 
blank space of the earth by slow but progressive stages. 
Sailing from the bleak land of the fisher folk along 
the out-posts of civilization, the complex luxury of met- 
ropolitan life was lost. Beyond, in the half savage wil- 
derness of Danish Greenland, we partook of a new life 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 851 

of primitive simplicity. Still farther along, in the 
Ultima Thule of the aborigines, we reverted to a pre- 
historic plane of living. Advancing beyond the haunts 
of men, we reached the noonday deadliness of a world 
without life. 

As we pushed beyond into the sterile wastes, with 
eager eyes we constantly searched the dusky plains of 
frost, but there was no speck of life to grace the purple 
run of death.* 

During these desolate marches, my legs working 
mechanically, my mind with anguish sought some object 
upon which to fasten itself. My eyes scrutinized the 
horizon. I saw, every day, every sleeping hour, hills 
of ice, vast plains of ice, now a deadly white, now a dull 
gray, now a misty purple, sometimes shot with gold or 
gleaming with lakes of ultramarine, moving towards and 
by me, an ever-changing yet ever-monotonous pano- 
rama which wearied me as does the shifting of unchang- 
ing scenery seen from a train window. As I paced the 
weary marches, I fortunately became unconscious of 
the painful movement of my legs. Although I walked 
I had a sensation of being lifted involuntarily onward. 

The sense of covering distance gave me a dull, 
pleasurable satisfaction. Only some catastrophe, some 
sudden and overwhelming obstacle would have aroused 
me to an intense mental emotion, to a passionate despair, 
to the anguish of possible defeat. 

I was now becoming the unconscious instrument of 



* Peary claims to have seen life east of this position. This is perfectly- 
possible, for Arctic explorers have often noted when game trails were 
abundant one year, none were seen the next. In these tracks of foxes and 
bears, as noted by Baldwin, are positive proofs of the position of Bradley 
Land — for such animals work only from a land base. 



252 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

my ambition; almost without volition my body was being 
carried forward by a subconscious force which had 
fastened itself upon a distant goal. Sometimes the 
wagging of a dog's tail held my attention for long 
minutes; it afforded a curious play for my morbidly 
obsessed imagination. In an hour I would forget what 
I had been thinking. To-day I cannot remember the 
vague, fanciful illusions about curiously insignificant 
things which occupied my faculties in this dead world. 
The sun, however, did relieve the monotony, and cre- 
ated in the death-chilled world skies filled with elysian 
flowers and mirages of beauty undreamed of by Aladdin. 

My senses at the time, as I have said, were vaguely 
benumbed. While we traveled I heard the sound of 
the moving sledges. Their sharp steel runners cut the 
ice and divided the snow like a cleaving knife. I be- 
came used to the first shudder of the rasping sound. In 
the dead lulls between wind storms I would listen with 
curious attention to the soft patter of our dogs' feet. 
At times I could hear their tiny toe nails grasping at 
forward ice ridges in order to draw themselves forward, 
and, strangely — so were all my thoughts interwoven 
with my ambition — this clenching, crunching, gritty 
sound gave me a delighted sense of progress, a sense of 
ever covering distance and nearing, ever nearing the 
Pole. 

In this mid-Polar basin the ice does not readily 
separate. It is probably in motion at all times of the 
year. In this readjustment of fields following motion 
and expansion, open spaces of water appear. These, 
during most months, are quickly sheeted with new ice. 

In these troubled areas I had frequent opportuni- 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 253 

ties to measure ice-thickness. From my observation I 
had come to the conclusion that ice does not freeze to 
a depth of more than twelve or fifteen feet during a 
single year. Occasionally we crossed fields fifty feet 
thick. These invariably showed signs of many years of 
surface upbuilding. 

It is very difficult to estimate the amount of sub- 
merged freezing after the first year's ice, but the very 
uniform thickness of Antarctic sea ice suggests that a 
limit is reached the second year, when the ice, with its 
cover of snow, is so thick that very little is added after- 
ward from below. 

Increase in size after that is probably the result 
mostly of addition to the superstructure. Frequent 
falls of snow, combined with alternate melting and 
freezing in summer, and a process similar to the up- 
building of glacial ice, are mainly responsible for the 
growth in thickness of the ice on the Polar sea. 

The very heavy, undulating fields, which give 
character to the mid-Polar ice and escape along the east 
and west coasts of Greenland, are, therefore, mostly 
augmented from the surface. 

Continuing north, at no time was the horizon per- 
fectly clear. But the weather was good enough to per- 
mit frequent nautical observations. Our course was 
lined on uninteresting blank sheets. There were elusive 
signs of land frequent enough to maintain an explor- 
ing enthusiasm, which helped me also in satisfying my 
companions. For thus they were encouraged to believe 
in a nearness to terrestrial solidity. At every breathing 
spell, when we got together for a little chat, Ah-we- 
lah's hand, with pointed finger, was directed to some 



354 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

spot on the horizon or some low-lying cloud, with the 
shout of "Noona?" (land) , to which I always replied in 
the affirmative; but, for me, the field-glasses and later 
positions dispelled the illusion. 

Man, under pressure of circumstances, will adapt 
himself to most conditions of life. To me the other- 
world environment of the Polar-pack, far from con- 
tinental fastness, was beginning to seem quite natural. 

We forced marches day after day. We traveled 
until dogs languished or legs failed. Ice hills rose and 
fell before us. Mirages grimaced at our dashing teams 
with wondering faces. Daily the incidents and our posi- 
tion were recorded, but our adventures were promptly 
forgotten in the mental bleach of the next day's effort. 

Night was now as bright as day. By habit, we 
emerged from our igloos later and later. On the 5th 
and 6th we waited until noon before starting, to get 
observations ; but, as was so often the case, when the sun 
was watched, it slipped under clouds. This late start 
brought our stopping time close to midnight, and in- 
fused an interest in the midnight sun; but the persistent 
haze which clouded the horizon at night when the sun 
was low denied us a glimpse of the midnight luminary. 

The night of April 7 was made notable by the 
swing of the sun at midnight, above the usual obscuring 
mist, behind which it had, during previous days, sunk 
with its night dip of splendor. For a number of nights 
it made grim faces at us in its setting. A tantalizing 
mist, drawn as a curtain over the northern sea at mid- 
night, had afforded curious advantages for celestial 
staging. We were unable to determine sharply the 
advent of the midnight sun, but the colored cloud and 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 255 

haze into which it nightly sank produced a spectacular 
play which interested us immensely. 

Sometimes the great luminary was drawn out into 
an egg-shaped elongation with horizontal lines of color 
drawn through it. I pictured it as some splendid fire- 
colored lantern flung from the window of Heaven. 
Again, it was pressed into a basin flaming with magical 
fires, burning behind a mystic curtain of opalescent 
frosts. Blue at other times, it appeared like a huge 
vase of luminous crystal, such as might be evoked by the 
weird genii of the Orient, from which it required very 
little imagination to see purple, violet, crimson and 
multi-colored flowers springing beauteously into the sky. 

These changes took place quickly, as by magic. 
Usually the last display was of distorted faces, some 
animal, some semi-human — huge, grotesque, and curi- 
ously twitching countenances of clouds and fire. At 
times they appallingly resembled the hideous teeth- 
gnashing deities of China, that, with gnarled arms up- 
raised, holding daggers of flame and surrounded by 
smoke, were rising toward us from beyond the horizon. 

Sometimes in our northward progress these faces 
laughed, again they scowled ominously. What the 
actual configurations were I do not know; I suppose 
two men see nothing exactly alike in this topsy-turvy 
world. 

Rushing northward with forced haste, unreal 
beauties took form as if to lure us to pause. Clouds of 
steam rising from frozen seas like geysers assumed the 
aspects of huge fountains of iridescent fire. As the 
sun rose, lines of fight like quicksilver quivered and 
writhed about the horizon, and in swirling, swimming 



256 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

circles closed and narrowed about us on the increasingly 
color-burned but death-chilled areas of ice over which 
we worked. Setting amid a dance of purple radiance, 
the sun, however, instead of inspiring us, filled us with 
a sick feeling of giddiness. What beauty there was in 
these spectacles was often lost upon our benumbed 
senses. 

Nowhere in the world, perhaps, are seen such 
spectacles of celestial glory. The play of light on clouds 
and ice produces the illusion of some supernatural realm. 

We had now followed the sun's northward ad- 
vance — from its first peep, at midday, above the south- 
ern ice of the Polar gateway, to its sweep over the north- 
ern ice at midnight. From the end of the Polar night, 
late in February, to the first of the double days and the 
midnight suns, we had forced a trail through darkness 
and blood-hardening temperature, and over leg-break- 
ing irregularities of an unknown world of ice, to a spot 
almost exactly two hundred miles from the Pole! To 
this point our destiny had been auspiciously protected. 
Ultimate success seemed within grasp. But we were 
not blind to the long line of desperate effort still re- 
quired to push over the last distance. 

Now that we had the sun unmistakably at mid- 
night, its new glory before us was an incentive to onward 
efforts. Previous to this the sun had been undoubtedly 
above the horizon, but, as is well known, when the sun is 
low and the atmospheric humidity is high, as it always 
is over the pack, a dense cloud of frost crystals rests on 
the ice and obscures the horizon. During the previous 
days the sun sank into this frosty haze and was lost for 
several hours. 




CAMPING TO EAT AND TAKE OBSERVATIONS 
ON AGAIN ! 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 257 

Observations on April 8* placed camp at latitude 
86° 36', longitude 94° 2'. Although we had made long* 
marches and really great speed, we had advanced only 
ninety-six miles in the nine days. Much of our hard 
work had been lost in circuitous twists around trouble- 
some pressure lines and high, irregular fields of very 
old ice. The drift ice was throwing us to the east with 
sufficient force to give us some anxiety, but with eyes 
closed to danger and hardships, double days of fatigue 
and double days of glitter quickly followed one another. 

'Observation on April 8, from original field-papers. April 8, 1908, 
Longitude 94°-2\ Bar. 29.80, rising. Temp. —31°. Wind 2, Mag. N. E. 
Clouds St. 3. 



0... 


,. , ,21°— 49'— 30" 


, . 


21 —18—20 




2 | 43 — 7 —50 




21 —33—55 


I. E. 


-j-2 




2 | 21 —35 —50 




10 —47 —55 




9 




10 —38—55 




90— 




79 —21 — 5 




7 —15—23 




86 —36—28 


94° 

V 


Shadows 32 ft. (of pole 6 ft. above snow), 




60 | 376' 




6-16 




56" 




X6J4 




14 




336 




60 | 350 




5—50 




7— 9—33 





Everything was now in our favor, but here we felt 
most of the accumulating effect of long torture, in a 



258 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

world where every element of Nature is hostile. Human 
endurance has distinct limits. Bodily abuse will long 
be counterbalanced by man's superb recuperative power, 
but sooner or later there comes a time when out-worn 
cells call a halt. 

We had lived for weeks on a steady diet of withered 
beef and tallow. There was no change, we had no hot 
meat, and never more to eat than was absolutely neces- 
sary to keep life within the body. We became in- 
different to the aching vacant pain of the stomach. 
Every organ had been whipped to serve energy to the 
all important movement of our legs. The depletion of 
energy, the lassitude of overstrained limbs, manifested 
themselves. The Eskimos were lax in the swing of the 
whip and indifferent in urging on the dogs. The dogs 
displayed the same spirit by lowered tails, limp ears, 
and drooping noses, as their shoulders dragged the sleds 
farther, ever farther from the land of life. 

A light life-sapping wind came from the west. We 
battled against it. We swung our arms to fight it and 
maintain circulation, as a swimmer in water. Veering 
a little at times, it always struck the face at a piercing 
angle. It froze the tip of my nose so often that that 
feature felt like a foreign bump on my face. Our cheeks 
had in like manner been so often bleached in spots that 
the skin was covered with ugly scars. Our eyes were 
often sealed by frozen eyelashes. The tear sack made 
icicles. Every particle of breath froze as it left the 
nostrils, and coated the face in a mask of ice. 

The sun at times flamed the clouds, while the snow 
glowed in burning tones. In the presence of all this we 
suffered the chill of death. All Nature exulted in a 



BEYOND THE RANGE OF LIFE 259 

wave of hysteria. Delusions took form about us — 
in mirages, in the clouds. We moved in a world of 
delusions. The heat of the sun was a sham, its light a 
torment. A very curious world this, I thought dumbly, 
as we pushed our sleds and lashed our lagging dogs. 
Our footing was solid; there was no motion. Our 
horizon was lined with all the topographic features of a 
solid land scene, with mountains, valleys and plains, 
rivers of open water; but under it all there was the 
heaving of a restless sea. Although nothing visibly 
moved, it was all in motion. Seemingly a solid crust of 
earth, it imperceptibly drifts in response to every wind. 
We moved with it, but ever took our landscape with us. 

Of the danger of this movement, of the possibility 
of its hopelessly carrying us away from our goal, and 
the possibility of ultimate starvation, I never lost con- 
sciousness. Although the distance may seem slight, 
now that we had gone so far, the last two hundred miles 
seemed hopelessly impossible. With aching, stiffened 
legs we started our continuing marches without en- 
thusiasm, with little ambition. But marches we made — 
distance leaped at times under our swift running 
feet. 

It sometimes now seems that unknown and subtle 
forces of which we are not cognizant supported me. 
I could almost believe that there were unseen beings 
there, whose voices urged me in the wailing wind ; who, 
in my success, themselves sought soul peace, and who, 
that I might obtain it, in some strange, mysterious way 
succored and buoyed me. 



OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY 

THE MADDENING TORTURES OF A WORLD WHERE ICE 
WATER SEEMS HOT, AND COLD KNIVES BURN ONE'S 
HANDS — ANGUISHED PROGRESS ON THE LAST STRETCH 

OF TWO HUNDRED MILES OVER ANCHORED LAND ICE 

DAYS OF SUFFERING AND GLOOM — THE TIME OF 

DESPAIR "IT IS WELL TO DIE," SAYS AH-WE-LAHJ 

"BEYOND IS IMPOSSIBLE." 

XVIII 

One Hundred Miles From the Pole 

We pushed onward. We cracked our whips to urge 
the tiring dogs. We forced to quick steps weary leg 
after weary leg. Mile after mile of ice rolled under our 
feet. The maddening influence of the shifting desert of 
frost became almost unendurable in the daily routine. 
Under the lash of duty interest was forced, while the 
merciless drive of extreme cold urged physical action. 
Our despair was mental and physical — the result of 
chronic overwork. 

Externally there was reason for rejoicing. The 
sky had cleared, the weather improved, a liquid charm 
of color poured over the strange other-world into which 
we advanced. Progress was good, but the soul refused 
to open its eyes to beauty or color. All was a lifeless 



OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY 261 

waste. The mind, heretofore busy in directing arm and 
foot, to force a way through miniature mountains of 
uplifted floes, was now, because of better ice, relieved 
of that strain, but it refused to seek diversion. 

The normal run of hardship, although eased, now 
piled up the accumulated poison of overwork, and when 
I now think of the terrible strain I fail to see how a 
workable balance was maintained. 

As we passed the eighty-sixth parallel, the ice in- 
creased in breadth and thickness. Great hummocks and 
pressure lines became less frequent. A steady progress 
was gained with the most economical human drain 
possible. The temperature ranged between 36° and 40° 
below zero, Fahrenheit, with higher and lower midday 
and midnight extremes. Only spirit thermometers were 
useful, for the mercury was at this degree of frost either 
frozen or sluggish. 

Although the perpetual sun gave light and color to 
the cheerless waste we were not impressed with any ap- 
preciable sense of warmth. Indeed, the sunbeams by 
their contrast seemed to cause the frost of the air to 
pierce with a more painful sting. In marching over 
the golden glitter, snow scalded our faces, while our 
noses were bleached with frost. The sun rose into zones 
of fire and set in burning fields of ice, but, in pain, we 
breathed the chill of death. 

In camp a grip of the knife left painful burns from 
cold metal. To the frozen fingers ice cold water was 
hot. With wine-spirits the fire was lighted, while oil 
delighted the stomach. In our dreams Heaven was hot, 
the other place was cold. All Nature was false; we 
seemed to be nearing the chilled flame of a new Hades. 



262 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

We now changed our working hours from day to 
night, beginning usually at ten o'clock and ending at 
seven. The big marches and prolonged hours of travel 
with which fortune favored us earlier were no longer 
possible. Weather conditions were more important 
in determining a day's run than the hands of the 
chronometers. 

That I must steadily keep up my notes and the 
records of observations was a serious addition to my 
daily task. I never permitted myself to be careless in 
regard to this, for I never let myself forget the impor- 
tance of such data in plotting an accurate course. 

I kept my records in small notebooks, writing very 
fine with a hard pencil on both sides of the paper. At 
the beginning of the journey I had usually set down 
the day's record by candle light, but later, when the sun 
was shining both day and night, I needed no light even 
inside the walls of the igloo, for the sunlight shone 
strongly enough through the walls of snow. Shining 
brilliantly at times, I utilized the opportunity it 
afforded, every few marches, to measure our shadows. 
The daily change marked our advance Poleward. 

When storms threatened, our start was delayed. 
In strong gales the march was shortened. But in one 
way or another we usually found a few hours in each 
turn of the dial during which a march could be forced 
between winds. It mattered little whether we traveled 
night or day — all hours and all days were alike to us — 
for we had no accustomed time to rest, no Sundays, no 
holidays, no landmarks, or mile-posts to pass. 

To advance and expend the energy accumulated 
during one sleep at the cost of one pound of pemmican 



OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY 263 

was our sole aim in life. Day after day our legs were 
driven onward. Constantly new but similar panoramas 
rolled by us. 

Our observations on April 11, gave latitude 87° 
20', longitude 95° 19'. The pack disturbance of the 
new land was less and less noted as we progressed in the 
northward movement. The fields became heavier, 
larger and less crevassed. Fewer troublesome old floes 
and less crushed new ice were encountered. With the 
improved conditions, the fire of a racing spirit surged 
up for a brief spell. 

We had now passed the highest reaches of all our 
predecessors. The inspiration of the Farthest North 
for a brief time thrilled me. The time was at hand, 
however, to consider seriously the possible necessity of 
an early return. 

Nearly half of the food allowance had been used. 
In the long marches supplies had been more liberally 
consumed than anticipated. Now our dog teams were 
much reduced in numbers. Because of the cruel law of 
the survival of the fittest, the less useful dogs had gone 
into the stomachs of their stronger companions. With 
the lessening of the number of dogs had come at the 
same time a reduction of the weight of the sledge loads, 
through the eating of the food. Now, owing to food 
limitations and the advancing season, we could not pru- 
dently continue the onward march a fortnight longer. 

We had dragged ourselves three hundred miles 
over the Polar sea in twenty-four days. Including de- 
lays and detours, this gave an average of nearly thirteen 
miles daily on an airline in our course. There remained 
an unknown line of one hundred and sixty miles to the 



264 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Pole. The same average advance would take us to the 
Pole in thirteen days. There were food and fuel enough 
to risk this adventure. With good luck the prize seemed 
within our grasp. But a prolonged storm, a deep snow- 
fall, or an active ice-pack would mean failure. 

In new cracks I measured the thickness of the ice. 
I examined the water for life. The technical details for 
the making and breaking of ice were studied, and some 
attention was given to the altitude of uplifted and sub- 
merged irregularities. Atmospheric, surface water and 
ice temperatures were taken, the barometer was noted, 
the cloud formations, weather conditions and ice drifts 
were tabulated. There was a continuous routine of 
work, but like the effort of the foot in the daily drive, 
it became more or less automatic. 

Running along over seemingly endless fields of ice, 
the physical appearances now came under more care- 
ful scrutiny. I watched daily for possible signs of fail- 
ing in the strength of any of us, because a serious dis- 
ability would now mean a fatal termination. A dis- 
abled man could neither continue nor return. Each 
new examination gave me renewed confidence and was 
another reason to push human endurance to the limit of 
straining every fibre and cell. 

As a matter of long experience I find life in this 
extreme North is healthful so long as there is sufficient 
good food, so long as exertion is not overdone. A weak- 
ling would easily be killed, but a strong man is 
splendidly hardened and kept in perfect physical trim 
by sledging and tramping in this germless air. But, 
as I have said, sufficient food and not too much exertion 
are requisites to full safety, and in our case we were 



CSEHE^r ^^m ^ftft 





SWIFT PROGRESS OVER SMOOTH ICE 

BUILDING AN IGLOO 

A LIFELESS WORLD OF COLD AND ICE 



OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY 265 

working to the limit, with rations running low. Still, 
the men responded superbly. 

Our tremendous exertion in forcing daily rushing 
marches, under occasional bursts of burning sunbeams, 
provoked intense thirst. Following the habit of the 
camel, we managed to take enough water before starting 
to keep sufficient liquid in the stomach and veins for 
the ensuing day's march. Yet it was painful to await 
the melting of ice at camping time. 

In two sittings, evening and morning, each of us 
took an average of three quarts of water daily. This 
included tea and also the luxury of occasional soup. 
Water was about us everywhere in heaps, but before 
the thirst could be quenched, several ounces of precious 
fuel, which had been sledged for hundreds of miles, 
must be used. And yet, this water, so expensive and so 
necessary to us, became the cause of our greatest dis- 
comfort. It escaped through pores of the skin, sat- 
urated the boots, formed a band of ice under the knee 
and a belt of frost about the waist, while the face was 
nearly always encased in a mask of icicles from the 
moist breath. We learned to take this torture philo- 
sophically. 

With our dogs bounding and tearing onward, from 
the eighty-seventh to the eighty-eighth parallel we 
passed for two days over old ice without pressure lines 
or hummocks. There was no discernible line of de- 
marcation to indicate separate fields, and it was quite 
impossible to determine whether we were on land or sea 
ice. The barometer indicated no perceptible elevation, 
but the ice had the hard, wavering surface of glacial ice, 
with only superficial crevasses. The water obtained 



266 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

from this was not salty. All of the upper surface of 
old hummock and high ice of the Polar sea resolves into 
unsalted water. My nautical observations did not 
seem to indicate a drift, but nevertheless my combined 
tabulations do not warrant a positive assertion of either 
land or sea; I am inclined, however, to put this down as 
ice on low or submerged land. 

The ice presented an increasingly cheering pros- 
pect. A plain of purple and blue ran in easy undula- 
tions to the limits of vision without the usual barriers of 
uplifted blocks. Over it a direct air-line course was 
possible. Progress, however, was quite as difficult as 
over the irregular pack. The snow was crusted with 
large crystals. An increased friction reduced the sled 
speed, while the snow surface, too hard for snowshoes, 
was also too weak to give a secure footing to the unpro- 
tected boot. The loneliness, the monotony, the hard- 
ship of steady, unrelieved travel were keenly felt. 

Day after day we pushed along at a steady pace 
over plains of frost and through a mental desert. As 
the eye opened at the end of a period of shivering 
slumber, the fire was lighted little by little, the stomach 
was filled with liquids and solids, mostly cold — enough 
to last for the day, for there could be no halt or waste 
of fuel for midday feeding. We next got into harness, 
and, under the lash of duty, paced off the day's pull; 
we worked until standing became impossible. 

As a man in a dream I marched, set camp, ate and 
tried to rest. I took observations now without interest; 
under those conditions no man could take an interest 
in mathematics. Eating became a hardship, for the 
pemmican, tasteless and hard as metal, was cold. Our 



OVER POLAR SEAS OF MYSTERY «67 

feet were numb — it seemed fortunate they no longer 
eyen ached. 

The arduous task of building a snowhouse meant 
physical hardship. In this the eyes, no longer able to 
wink, quickly closed. Soon the empty stomach com- 
plained. Then the gastric wants were half served. 
With teeth dropping to the spasm of cold and skins in 
an electric wave of shivers to force animal heat, the boys 
fell to unconscious slumbers, but my lids did not easily 
close. The anxiety to succeed, the eagerness to draw 
out our food supply and the task of infusing courage 
into my savage helpers kept the mind active while the 
underfed blood filled the legs with new power. 

There was no pleasurable mental recreation to re- 
lieve us; there was nothing to arouse the soul from its 
icy inclosure. To eat, to sleep, endlessly to press one 
foot ahead of the other — that was all we could do. We 
were like horses driven wearily in carts, but we had not 
their advantages of an agreeable climate and a com- 
fortable stable at night. Daily our marches were much 
the same. Finishing our frigid meal, we hitched the 
dogs and lashed the sleds. 

In the daily routine of our onward struggle, there 
was an inhuman strain which neither words nor pictures 
could adequately describe. The maddening influence 
of the sameness of Polar glitter, combined as it was with 
bitter winds and extreme cold and overworked bodies, 
burned our eyes and set our teeth to a chronic chatter- 
ing. To me there was always the inspiration of ulti- 
mate success. But for my young savage companions, 
it was a torment almost beyond endurance. They were, 
however, brave and faithful to the bitter end, seldom 



268 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

allowing hunger or weariness or selfish ambition or 
fierce passions seriously to interfere with the effort of 
the expedition. We suffered, but we covered distance. 

On the morning of April 13, the strain of agitating 
torment reached the breaking point. For days there 
had been a steady cutting wind from the west, which 
drove despair to its lowest reaches. The west again 
blackened, to renew its soul-despairing blast. The frost- 
burn of sky color changed to a depressing gray, streaked 
with black. The snow was screened with ugly vapors. 
The path was absolutely cheerless. All this was a dire 
premonition of storm and greater torture. 

No torment could be worse than that never-ceasing 
msh of icy air. It gripped us and sapped the lif e from 
us. Ah-we-lah bent over his sled and refused to move. 
I walked over and stood by his side. His dogs turned 
and looked inquiringly at us. E-tuk-i-shook came near 
and stood motionless, like a man in a trance, staring 
blankly at the southern skies. Large tears fell from 
Ah-we-lah's eyes and froze in the blue of his own 
shadow. Not a word was uttered. I knew that the 
dreaded time of utter despair had come. The dogs 
looked at us, patient and silent in their misery. Silently 
in the descending gloom we all looked over the tremen- 
dous dead-white waste to the southward. With a tear- 
streaked and withered face, Ah-we-lah slowly said, with 
a strangely shrilling wail, "Unne-sinig-po — Oo-ah-torde 
i-o-doria — Ooh-ah-tonie i-o-doria!" ("It is well to die — 
Beyond is impossible — Beyond is impossible!") 



TO THE POLE— THE LAST HUNDRED 
MILES 

OVER PLAINS OF GOLD AND SEAS OF PALPITATING COLOR 
THE DOG TEAMS, WITH NOSES DOWN, TAILS ERECT, 
DASH SPIRITEDLY LIKE CHARIOT HORSES — CHANTING 
LOVE SONGS THE ESKIMOS FOLLOW WITH SWINGING 
STEP — TIRED EYES OPEN TO NEW GLORY — STEP BY 
STEP, WITH THUMPING HEARTS THE EARTH'S APEX 
IS NEARED — AT LAST! THE GOAL IS REACHED! THE 
STARS AND STRIPES ARE FLUNG TO THE FRIGID 
BREEZES OF THE NORTH POLE ! 

XLX 

Boreal Center is Pierced 

I shall never forget that dismal hour. I shall never 
forget that desolate drab scene about us — those endless 
stretches of gray and dead-white ice, that drab dull sky, 
that thickening blackness in the west which entered into 
and made gray and black our souls, that ominous, eerie 
and dreadful wind, betokening a terrorizing Arctic 
storm. I shall never forget the mournful group before 
me, in itself an awful picture of despair, of man's ambi- 
tion failing just as victory is within his grasp. Ah-we- 
lah, a thin, half-starved figure in worn furs, lay over 
his sled, limp, dispirited, broken. In my ears I can now 



270 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

hear his low sobbing words, I can see the tears on his 
yellow fissured face. I can see E-tuk-i-shook standing 
gaunt and grim, and as he gazed yearningly onward to 
the south, sighing pitifully, shudderingly for the home, 
the loved one, An-na-do-a, left behind, whom, I could 
tell, he did not expect to see again. 

It was a critical moment. Up to this time, during 
the second week of April, we had, by intense mental 
force, goaded our wearied legs onward to the limit of 
endurance. With a cutting wind in our faces, feeling 
with each step the cold more severely to the marrow of 
our bones, with our bodily energy and our bodily heat 
decreasing, we had traveled persistently, suffering in- 
tolerable pains with every breath. Despite increasing 
despair, I had cheered my companions as best I could; 
I had impressed upon them the constant nearing of my 
goal. I had encouraged in them the belief of nearness 
of land ; each day I had gone on, fearing what had now 
come, the utter breaking of their spirits. 

"Urme-sinikpo-ashuka." (Yes, it is well to die.) 

"Atvonga-up-dow-epuksha!" (Yesterday I, too, 
felt that Way) , I said to myself. The sudden extinction 
of consciousness, I thought, might be indeed a blessed 
relief. But as long as life persisted, as long as human 
endurance could be strained, I determined to continue. 
Desperate as was my condition, and suffering hellish 
tortures, the sight of the despair of my companions re- 
aroused me. Should we fail now, after our long endur- 
ance, now, when the goal was so near? 

The Pole was only one hundred miles beyond. The 
attainment seemed almost certain. 

"Accou-ou-o-toni-ah-younguluk" (Beyond to-mor- 



TO THE POLE 271 

row it will be better), I urged, trying to essay a smile. 
"Igluctoo!" (Cheer up!) 

Holding up one hand, with a reach Poleward, 
bending five fingers, one after the other, I tried to con- 
vey the idea that in five sleeps the "Big Nail" would 
be reached, and that then we would turn (pointing with 
my fingers) homeward. 

"Noona-me-neulia-capa — dhmisua" (For home, 
sweethearts and food in abundance) , I said. 

"Noona-terronga, neuliarongita, ootah — peteron- 
gito" (Land is gone; loved ones are lost; signs of life 
have vanished). 

"Tig-i-lay-waong acedia — nellu ikah-amisua" (Re- 
turn will I, the sky and weather I do not understand. It 
is very cold) , said Ah-we-lah. 

" Attuda-emongwdh-ka" (A little farther come), 
I pleaded. Attudu-mikisungwah" (Only a little 
further) . 

" Sukinut-nellu" (The sun I do not understand), 
said E-tuk-i-shook. 

This had been a daily complaint for some days — 
the approaching equality of the length of shadows for 
night and day puzzled them. The failing night dip of 
the sun left them without a guiding line to give direction. 
They were lost in a landless, spiritless world, in which 
the sky, the weather, the sun and all was a mystery. 

I knew my companions were brave. I was certain 
of their fidelity. Could their mental despair be alle- 
viated, I felt convinced they could brace themselves for 
another effort. I spoke kindly to them; I told them 
what we had accomplished, that they were good and 
brave, that their parents and their sweethearts would 



272 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

be proud of them, and that as a matter of honor we 
must not now fail. 

"Tigishu-conitu" I said. (The Pole is near.) 

"Sinipa tedliman dossa-ooahtonie tomongma ah 
youngulok tigilay toy hoy." (At the end of five sleeps 
it is finished, beyond all is well, we return thereafter 
quickly.) 

"Seko shudi iokpok. Sounah ha-ah!" they replied. 
(On ice always is not good. The bones ache.) 

Then I said, "The ice is flat, the snow is good, the 
sky is clear, the Great Spirit is with us, the Pole is near !" 

Ah-we-lah dully nodded his head. I noticed, how- 
ever, he wiped his eyes. 

"Ka-bishuckto-emongwah" (Come walk a little 
further), I went on. "Accou ooahtoni-ahningahna- 
matluk-tigilay-Inut-noona" (Beyond to-morrow within 
two moons we return to Eskimo lands. ) 

"K is ah iglucto-tima-attahta-annona-neuliasing- 
wah," said Ah-we-lah. (At last, then it is to laugh! 
There we will meet father and mother and little wives!) 

"Ashuka-alningahna-matluk" I returned. (Yes, 
in two moons there will be water and meat and all in 
plenty.) 

E-tuk-i-shook gazed at me intently. His eyes 
brightened. 

As I spoke my own spirits rose to the final effort, 
my lassitude gave way to a new enthusiasm. I felt the 
fire kindling for many years aglow within me. The 
goal was near; there remained but one step to the apex 
of my ambition. I spoke hurriedly. The two sat up 
and listened. Slowly they became inspired with my 
intoxication. Never did I speak so vehemently. 



TO THE POLE 273 

E-tuk-i-shook gripped his whip. "Ka, ago" ( Come, 
go!) he said. 

Ah-we-lah, determined but grim, braced his body 
and shouted to the dogs — "Huk, Huk, Huk" and then 
to us he said, "Aga-Ka!" (Go-come) . 

With snapping whip we were off for that last hun- 
dred miles. 

The animals pricked their ears, re-curled their tails, 
and pulled at the traces. Shouting to keep up the forced 
enthusiasm, we bounded forward on the last lap. A 
sort of wild gratification filled my heart. I knew that 
only mental enthusiasm would now prevent the defeat 
which might yet come from our own bodies refusing to 
go farther. Brain must now drive muscle. Fortunately 
the sense of final victory imparted a supernormal mental 
stimulus. 

Gray ice hummocks sped by us. My feet were so 
tired that I seemed to walk on air. My body was so 
light from weakness that I suppose I should hardly 
have been surprised had I floated upward from the ice 
in a gust of wind. I felt the blood moving in my veins 
and stinging like needles in my joints as one does when 
suffering with neurasthenia. I swung my axe. The 
whip of my companions cut the air. The dogs leaped 
over the ice, with crunching progress they pulled them- 
selves over hummocks much as cats climb trees. Dis- 
tance continued to fade behind us. 

On April 14, my observations gave latitude, 88° 
21'; longitude, 95° 52'. The wind came with a satanic 
cut from the west. There had been little drift. But 
with a feeling of chagrin I saw that the ice before us 
displayed signs of recent activity. It was more ir- 



274 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

regular, with open cracks here and there. These we had 
to avoid, but the sleds glided with less friction, and the 
weary dogs maintained a better speed. 

With set teeth and newly sharpened resolutions, 
we continued mile after mile of that last one hundred. 
More dogs had gone into the stomachs of their hungry 
companions, but there still remained a sufficient pull of 
well-tried brute force for each sled. Although their 
noisy vigor had been gradually lost in the long drag, 
they still broke the frigid silence with an occasional out- 
burst of howls. Any fresh enthusiasm from the drivers 
was quickly responded to by canine activity. 

We were in good trim to cover distance econom- 
ically. Our sledges were light, our bodies were thin. 
We had lost, since leaving winter camp, judging from 
appearances, from twenty-five to forty pounds each. 
All our muscles had shriveled. The dogs retained 
strength that was amazing. Stripped for the last lap, 
one horizon after another was lifted. 

From original field papers. — Observation* of April 14, 1908. Long 
95-52. Bar. 29.90 Falling. Temp. —44°. Clouds Cu. St. & Alt. St. 4. Wind 
1-3. Mag. E. 

Noon 22—12— 5 

96 = 
& 22—46—20 



2 I 44—58—25 



+2 



54 3 | 22—31—12 

6% 11—15—36 

~ 37 —9 
324 



11—6—36 

60 | 351 go 

5— 51 78—53—24 

9—21—50 9_ 2 7_4i 



88—21— 5 
Shadow 30 j£ ft. (of tent pole 6 ft. above snow.) 



TO THE POLE 275 

In the forced effort which followed we frequently 
became overheated. The temperature was steady at 44° 
below zero, Fahrenheit. Perspiration came with ease, 
and with a certain amount of pleasure. Later followed 
a train of suffering for many days. The delight of the 
birdskin shirt gave place to the chill of a wet blanket. 
Our coats and trousers hardened to icy suits of armor. 
It became quite impossible to dress after a sleep without 
softening the stiffened furs with the heat of our bare 
skin. Mittens, boots and fur stockings became quite 
useless until dried out. 

Fortunately, at this time the rays of the sun were 
warm enough to dry the furs in about three days, if 
lashed to the sunny side of a sled as we marched along, 
and strangely enough, the furs dried out without ap- 
parent thawing. In these last days we felt more keenly 
the pangs of perspiration than in all our earlier ad- 
ventures. We persistently used the amber-colored 
goggles. They afforded protection to the eyes, but in 
spite of every precaution, our distorted, frozen, burned 
and withered faces lined a map in relief, of the hard- 
ships endured en route. 

We were curious looking savages. The perpetual 
glitter of the snows induced a squint of our eyes which 
distorted our faces in a remarkable manner. The strong 
light reflected from the crystal surface threw the muscles 
about the eyes into a state of chronic contraction. The 
iris was reduced to a mere pin-hole. 

The strong winds and drifting snows necessitated 
the habit of peeping out of the corners of the eyes. 
Nature, in attempting to keep the ball from hardening, 
flushed it at all times with blood. To keep the seeing 



276 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

windows of the mind open required a constant exertion 
of will power. The effect was a set of expressions of 
hardship and wrinkles which might be called the boreal 
squint. 

This boreal squint is a part of the russet-bronze 
physiognomy which falls to the lot of every Arctic 
explorer. The early winds, with a piercing temperature, 
start a flush of scarlet, while frequent frostbites leave 
figures in black. Later the burning sun browns the 
skin; subsequently, strong winds sap the moisture, 
harden the skin and leave open fissures on the face. The 
human face takes upon itself the texture and configura- 
tion of the desolate, wind-driven world upon which it 
looks. 

Hard work and reduced nourishment contract the 
muscles, dispel the fat and leave the skin to shrivel in 
folds. The imprint of the goggles, the set expression 
of hard times, and the mental blank of the environ- 
ment remove all spiritual animation. Our faces as- 
sumed the color and lines of old, withering, russet apples, 
and would easily pass for the mummied countenances of 
the prehistoric progenitors of man. 

In enforced efforts to spread out our stiffened legs 
over the last reaches, there was left no longer sufficient 
energy at camping times to erect snow shelters. Our 
silk tent was pressed into use. Although the tempera- 
ture was still very low, the congenial rays pierced the silk 
fabric and rested softly on our eye lids closed in heavy 
slumber. In strong winds it was still necessary to erect 
a sheltering wall, whereby to shield the tent. 

As we progressed over the last one hundred mile- 
step, my mind was divested of its lethargy. Un- 



TO THE POLE 277 

consciously I braced myself. My senses became more 
keen. With a careful scrutiny I now observed the 
phenomena of the strange world into which fortune had 
pressed us — first of all men. 

Step by step, I invaded a world untrodden and un- 
known. Dulled as I was by hardship, I thrilled with 
the sense of the explorer in new lands, with the thrill 
of discovery and conquest. "Then," as Keats says, "felt 
I like some watcher of the skies, when a new planet 
swims into his ken." In this land of ice I was master, 
I was sole invader. I strode forward with an undaunted 
glory in my soul. 

Signs of land, which I encouraged my companions 
to believe were real, were still seen every day, but I 
knew, of course, they were deceptive. It now seemed to 
me that something unusual must happen, that some line 
must cross our horizon to mark the important area into 
which we were passing. 

Through vapor-charged air of crystal, my eyes ran 
over plains moving in brilliant waves of running colors 
toward dancing horizons. Mirages turned things topsy- 
turvy. Inverted lands and queer objects ever rose and 
fell, shrouded in mystery. All of this was due to the 
atmospheric magic of the continued glory of midnight 
suns in throwing piercing beams of light through super- 
imposed strata of air of varying temperature and 
density. 

Daily, by careful measurements, I found that our 
night shadows shortened and became more uniform dur- 
ing the passing hours of the day, as the shadow dial was 
marked. 

With a lucky series of astronomical observations 



278 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

our position was fixed for each stage of progress. 

Nearing the Pole, my imagination quickened. A 
restless, almost hysterical excitement came over all of 
us. My boys fancied they saw bears and seals. I had 
new lands under observation frequently, but with a 
change in the direction of light the horizon cleared. We 
became more and more eager to push further into the 
mystery. Climbing the long ladder of latitudes, there 
was always the feeling that each hour's work was bring- 
ing us nearer the Pole — the Pole which men had sought 
for three centuries, and which, fortune favoring, should 
be mine ! 

Yet, I was often so physically tired that my mind 
was, when the momentary intoxications passed, in a 
sense, dulled. But the habit of seeing and of noting 
what I had seen, had been acquired. The habit, yes, of 
putting one foot in front of the other, mile after mile, 
through the wild dreariness of ice, the habit of observing, 
even though with aching, blurred eyes, and noting, 
methodically, however wearily, what the tired eyes had 
seen. 

From the eighty-eighth to the eighty-ninth parallel 
the ice lay in large fields, the surface was less irregular 
than formerly. In other respects it was about the same 
as below the eighty-seventh. I observed here also, an 
increasing extension of the range of vision. I seemed to 
scan longer distances, and the ice along the horizon had 
a less angular outline. The color of the sky and the ice 
changed to deeper purple-blues. I had no way of check- 
ing these impressions by other observations; the eager- 
ness to find something unusual may have fired my imag- 
ination, but since the earth is flattened at the Pole, per- 





t«-i«4» A*** 



TOO WEARY TO BUILD IGLOOS WE USED THE SILK TENT 
'ACROSS SEAS OF CRYSTAL GLORY TO THE BOREAL CENTRE' 



TO THE POLE 279 

haps a widened horizon would naturally be detected 
there. 

At eight o'clock on the morning of April 19, we 
camped on a picturesque old field, with convenient hum- 
mocks, to the top of which we could easily rise for the 
frequent outlook which we now maintained. We pitched 
our tent, and silenced the dogs by blocks of pemmican. 
New enthusiasm was aroused by a liberal pot of pea- 
soup and a few chips of frozen meat. Then we bathed 
in life-giving sunbeams, screened from the piercing air 
by the strands of the silk-walled tent. 

The day was beautiful. Had our sense of apprecia- 
tion not been blunted by accumulated fatigue we should 
have greatly enjoyed the play of light and color in the 
ever-changing scene of sparkle. But in our condition 
it was but an inducement to keep the eyes open and to 
prolong interest long enough to dispel the growing com- 
plaint of aching muscles. 

Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shook were soon lost in pro- 
found sleep, the only comfort in their hard lives. I re- 
mained awake, as had been my habit for many preced- 
ing days, to get nautical observations. My longitude 
calculations lined us at 94° 3'. At noon the sun's alti- 
tude was carefully set on the sextant, and the latitude, 
quickly reduced, gave 89° 31'. The drift had carried us 
too far east, but our advance was encouraging. 

I put down the instrument, wrote the reckonings in 
my book. Then I gazed, with a sort of fascination, at 
the figures. My heart began to thump wildly. Slowly 
my brain whirled with exultation. I arose jubilant. 
We were only 29 miles from the North Pole ! 

I suppose I created quite a commotion about the 



280 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

little camp. E-tuk-i-shook, aroused by the noise, awoke 
and rubbed his eyes. I told him that in two average 
marches we should reach the "tigi-shu" — the big nail. 
He sprang to his feet and shouted with joy. He kicked 
Ah-we-lah, none too gently, and told him the glad news. 

Together they went out to a hummock, and through 
glasses, sought for a mark to locate so important a place 
as the terrestrial axis ! If but one sleep ahead, it must be 
visible ! So they told me, and I laughed. The sensation 
of laughing was novel. At first I was quite startled. I 
had not laughed for many days. Their idea was amus- 
ing, but it was eminently sensible from their standpoint 
and knowledge. 

I tried to explain to them that the Pole is not visible 
to the eye, and that its position is located only by a re- 
peated use of the various instruments. Although this 
was quite beyond their comprehension the explanation 
entirely satisfied their curiosity. They burst out in hur- 
rahs of joy. For two hours they chanted, danced and 
shouted the passions of wild life. Their joy, however, 
was in the thought of a speedy turning back homeward, 
I surmised. 

This, however, was the first real sign of pleasure or 
rational emotion which they had shown for several 
weeks. For some time I had entertained the fear that we 
no longer possessed strength to return to land. This 
unbridled flow of vigor dispelled that idea. My heart 
throbbed with gladness. A font of new strength seemed 
to gush forth within me. Considering through what we 
had gone, I now marvel at the reserve forces latent in 
us, and I sometimes feel that I should write, not of 
human weakness, but a new gospel of human strength. 



TO THE POLE 881 

With the Pole only twenty-nine miles distant, more 
sleep was quite impossible. We brewed an extra pot of 
tea, prepared a favorite broth of pemmican, dug up a 
surprise of fancy biscuits and filled up on good things 
to the limit of the allowance for our final feast days. The 
dogs, which had joined the chorus of gladness, were 
given an extra lump of pemmican. A few hours more 
were agreeably spent in the tent. Then we started out 
with new spirit for the uttermost goal of our world. 

Bounding joyously forward, with a stimulated 
mind, I reviewed the journey. Obstacle after obstacle 
had been overcome. Each battle won gave a spiritual 
thrill, and courage to scale the next barrier. Thus had 
been ever, and was still, in the unequal struggles be- 
tween human and inanimate nature, an incentive to go 
onward, ever onward, up the stepping-stones to ultimate 
success. And now, after a life-denying struggle in a 
world where every element of Nature is against the 
life and progress of man, triumph came with steadily 
measured reaches of fifteen miles a day I 

We were excited to fever heat. Our feet were 
light on the run. Even the dogs caught the infectious 
enthusiasm. They rushed along at a pace which made 
it difficult for me to keep a sufficient advance to set a 
good course. The horizon was still eagerly searched 
for something to mark the approaching boreal center. 
But nothing unusual was seen. The same expanse of 
moving seas of ice, on which we had gazed for five hun- 
dred miles, swam about us as we drove onward. 

Looking through gladdened eyes, the scene as- 
sumed a new glory. Dull blue and purple expanses 
were transfigured into plains of gold, in which were 



282 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

lakes of sapphire and rivulets of ruby fire. Engirdling 
this world were purple mountains with gilded crests. 
It was one of the few days on the stormy pack when all 
Nature smiled with cheering lights. 

As the day advanced beyond midnight and the 
splendor of the summer night ran into a clearer con- 
tinued day, the beams of gold on the surface snows 
assumed a more burning intensity. Shadows of hum- 
mocks and ice ridges became dyed with a deeper purple, 
and in the burning orange world loomed before us Titan 
shapes, regal and regally robed. 

From my position, a few hundred yards ahead of 
the sleds, with compass and axe in hand, as usual, I 
could not resist the temptation to turn frequently to see 
the movement of the dog train with its new fire. In 
this backward direction the color scheme was reversed. 
About the horizon the icy walls gleamed like beaten 
gold set with gem-spots of burning colors; the plains 
represented every shade of purple and blue, and over 
them, like vast angel wings outspread, shifted golden 
pinions. Through the sea of palpitating color, the dogs 
came, with spirited tread, noses down, tails erect and 
shoulders braced to the straps, like chariot horses. In 
the magnifying light they seemed many times their nor- 
mal size. The young Eskimos, chanting songs of love, 
followed with easy, swinging steps. The long whip 
was swung with a brisk crack. Over all arose a cloud 
of frosted breath, which, like incense smoke, became sil- 
vered in the light, a certain signal of efficient motive 
power. 

With our destination reachable over smooth ice, in 
these brighter days of easier travel our long chilled blood 



TO THE POLE 283 

was stirred to double action, our eyes opened to beauty 
and color, and a normal appreciation of the wonders of 
this new strange and wonderful world. 

As we lifted the midnight's sun to the plane of the 
midday sun, the shifting Polar desert became floored 
with a sparkling sheen of millions of diamonds, through 
which we fought a way to ulterior and greater glory. 

Our leg cramps eased and our languid feet lifted 
buoyantly from the steady drag as the soul arose to 
effervescence. Fields of rich purple, lined with run- 
ning liquid gold, burning with flashes of iridescent col- 
ors, gave a sense of gladness long absent from our weary 
life. The ice was much better. We still forced a way 
over large fields, small pressure areas and narrow leads. 
But, when success is in sight, most troubles seem lighter. 
We were thin, with faces burned, withered, frozen and 
torn in fissures, with clothes ugly from overwear. Yet 
men never felt more proud than we did, as we mili- 
tantly strode off the last steps to the world's very 
top! 

Camp was pitched early in the morning of April 
20. The sun was northeast, the pack glowed in tones 
of lilac, the normal westerly air brushed our frosty faces. 
Our surprising burst on enthusiasm had been nursed to 
its limits. Under it a long march had been made over 
average ice, with the usual result of overpowering 
fatigue. Too tired and sleepy to wait for a cup of tea, 
we poured melted snow into our stomach and pounded 
the pemmican with an axe to ease the task of the jaws. 
Our eyes closed before the meal was finished, and the 
world was lost to us for eight hours. Waking, I took 
observations which gave latitude 89° 46'. 



284. MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Late at night, after another long rest, we hitched 
the dogs and loaded the sleds. When action began, the 
feeling came that no time must be lost. Feverish im- 
patience seized me. 

Cracking our whips, we bounded ahead. The boys 
sang. The dogs howled. Midnight of April 21 had 
just passed. 

Over the sparkling snows the post-midnight sun 
glowed like at noon. I seemed to be walking in some 
splendid golden realms of dreamland. As we bounded 
onward the ice swam about me in circling rivers of gold. 

E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, though thin and 
ragged, had the dignity of the heroes of a battle which 
had been fought through to success. 

We all were lifted to the paradise of winners as we 
stepped over the snows of a destiny for which we had 
risked life and willingly suffered the tortures of an icy 
hell. The ice under us, the goal for centuries of brave, 
heroic men, to reach which many had suffered terribly 
and terribly died, seemed almost sacred. Constantly 
and carefully I watched my instruments in recording 
this final reach. Nearer and nearer they recorded our 
approach. Step by step, my heart filled with a strange 
rapture of conquest. 

At last we step over colored fields of sparkle, climb- 
ing walls of purple and gold — finally, under skies of 
crystal blue, with flaming clouds of glory, we touch 
the mark! The soul awakens to a definite triumph; 
there is sunrise within us, and all the world of night- 
darkened trouble fades. We are at the top of the world ! 
The flag is flung to the frigid breezes of the North 
Pole! 




ROUTE TO THE POLE AND RETURN 
A triangle of 30,000 square miles cut out of the mysterious unknown 



AT THE NORTH POLE 

OBSERVATIONS AT THE POLE METEOROLOGICAL AND AS- 
TRONOMICAL PHENOMENA — SINGULAR STABILITY 
AND UNIFORMITY OF THE THERMOMETER AND 
BAROMETER — A SPOT WHERE ONE'S SHADOW IS THE 
SAME LENGTH EACH HOUR OF THE TWENTY-FOUR — 
EIGHT POLAR ALTITUDES OF THE SUN 

XX 

Full and Final Proofs of the Attainment 

Looking about me, after the first satisfactory ob- 
servation, I viewed the vacant expanse. The first real- 
ization of actual victory, of reaching my lifetime's goal, 
set my heart throbbing violently and my brain aglow. 
I felt the glory which the prophet feels in his vision, 
with which the poet thrills in his dream. About the 
frozen plains my imagination evoked aspects of gran- 
deur. I saw silver and crystal palaces, such as were 
never built by man, with turrets flaunting "pinions glo- 
rious, golden." The shifting mirages seemed like the 
ghosts of dead armies, magnified and transfigured, huge 
and spectral, moving along the horizon and bearing the 
wind-tossed phantoms of golden blood-stained banners. 

The low beating of the wind assumed the throb of 
martial music. Bewildered, I realized all that I had 



i 






AT THE POLE ' WE WERE THE ONLY PULSATING CREATURES IN A 

DEAD WORLD OF ICE " 



AT THE NORTH POLE 287 

suffered, all the pain of fasting, all the anguish of long 
weariness, and I felt that this was my reward. I had 
scaled the world, and I stood at the Pole! 

By a long and consecutive series of observations 
and mental tabulations of various sorts on our journey 
northward, continuing here, I knew, beyond peradven- 
ture of doubt, that I was at a spot which was as near as 
possible, by usual methods of determination, five hun- 
dred and twenty miles from Svartevoeg, a spot toward 
which men had striven for more than three centuries — a 
spot known as the North Pole, and where I stood first 
of white men. In my own achievement I felt, that 
dizzy moment, that all the heroic souls who had braved 
the rigors of the Arctic region found their own hopes' 
fulfilment. I had realized their dream. I had culmi- 
nated with success the efforts of all the brave men who 
had failed before me. I had finally justified their sac- 
rifices, their very death; I had proven to humanity 
humanity's supreme triumph over a hostile, death- 
dealing Nature. It seemed that the souls of these dead 
exulted with me, and that in some sub-strata of the air, 
in notes more subtle than the softest notes of music, 
they sang a paean in the spirit with me. 

We had reached our destination. My relief was 
indescribable. The prize of an international marathon 
was ours. Pinning the Stars and Stripes to a tent-pole, 
I asserted the achievement in the name of the ninety 
millions of countrymen who swear fealty to that flag. 
And I felt a pride as I gazed at the white-and-crimson 
barred pinion, a pride which the claim of no second 
victor has ever taken from me. 

My mental intoxication did not interfere with the 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 




CLIMBING THE LADDER OF 
LATITUDES 



routine work which was 
now necessary. Having 
reached the goal, it was 
imperative that all scien- 
tific observations be made 
as carefully as possible, as 
quickly as possible. To 
the taking of these I set 
set myself at once, while 
my companions began the 
routine work of unload- 
ing the sledges and build- 
ing an igloo. 

Our course when ar- 
riving at the Pole, as near 
as it was possible to de- 
termine, was on the 
ninety-seventh meridian. 
The day was April 21, 
1908. It was local noon. 
The sun was 11.55° above 
the magnetic northern 
horizon. My shadow, a 
dark purple - blue streak 
with ill - defined edges, 
measured twenty-six feet 
in length. The tent pole, 
marked as a measuring 
stick, was pushed into the 
snow, leaving six feet 
above the surface. This 
gave a shadow twent5 T - 
eight feet long. 



AT THE NORTH POLE 289 

Several sextant observations gave a latitude a few 
seconds below 90°, which, because of unknown refrac- 
tion and uncertain accuracy of time, was placed at 90°. 
(Other observations on the next day gave similar re- 
sults, although we shifted camp four miles toward mag- 
netic south.) A broken hand-axe was tied to the end 
of a life-line; this was lowered through a fresh break in 
the ice, and the angle which it made with the surface 
indicated a drift toward Greenland. The temperature, 
gauged by a spirit thermometer, was 37.7°, F. The mer- 
cury thermometer indicated — 86°. The atmospheric 
pressure by the aneroid barometer was at 29.83. It 
was falling, and indicated a coming change in the 
weather. The wind was very light, and had veered 
from northeast to south, according to the compass card. 

The sky was almost clear, of a dark purple blue, 
with a pearly ice-blink or silver reflection extending east, 
and a smoky water-sky west, in darkened, ill-defined 
streaks, indicating continuous ice or land toward Bering 
Sea, and an active pack, with some open water, toward 
Spitzbergen. To the north and south were wine- 
colored gold-shot clouds, flung in long banners, with 
ragged-pointed ends along the horizon. The ice about 
was nearly the same as it had been continuously since 
leaving the eighty-eighth parallel. It was slightly more 
active, and showed, by news cracks and oversliding, 
young ice signs of recent disturbance. 

The field upon which we camped was about three 
miles long and two miles wide. Measured at a new 
crevasse, the ice was sixteen feet thick. The tallest 
hummock measured twenty-eight feet above water. The 
snow lay in fine feathery crystals, with no surface crust. 



290 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

About three inches below the soft snow was a sub- 
surface crust strong enough to carry the bodily weight. 
Below this were other successive crusts, and a porous 
snow in coarse crystals, with a total depth of about 
fifteen inches. 

Our igloo was built near one edge in the lee of an 
old hummock about fifteen feet high. Here a recent 
bank of drift snow offered just the right kind of material 
from which to cut building blocks. While a shelter was 
thus being walled, I moved about constantly to read my 
instruments and to study carefully the local environ- 
ment. 

In a geographic sense we had now arrived at a 
point where all meridians meet. The longitude, there- 
fore, was zero. Time was a negative problem. There 
being no longitude, there can be no time. The hour 
lines of Greenwich, of New York, of Peking, and of all 
the world here run together. Figuratively, if this posi- 
tion is the pin-point of the earth's axis, it is possible to 
have all meridians under one foot, and therefore it 
should be possible to step from midnight to midday, 
from the time of San Francisco to that of Paris, from 
one side of the globe to the other, as time is measured. 

Here there is but one day and but one night in each 
year, but the night of six monhs is relieved by about one 
hundred days of continuous twilight. Geographically, 
there was here but one direction. It was south on every 
line of the dial of longitude — north, east and west had 
vanished. We had reached a point where true direction 
became a paradox and a puzzle. It was south before us, 
south behind us, and south on every side. But the com- 
pass, pointing to the magnetic Pole along the ninety- 











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WHERE ALL MERIDIANS MEET AND EVERY DIRECTION 

IS SOUTH 

The Pivotal Point on which the earth turns. 



292 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

seventh meridian, was as useful as ever. (To avoid 
statements easily misunderstood, all our directions about 
the Pole will be given as taken from the compass, and 
without reference to the geographer's anomaly of its 
being south in every direction.) 

My first noon observations gave the following result, which is copied 
from the original paper, as it was written at the Pole and reproduced 
photographically on another page. April 21, 1908: Long., 97- W.; Bar., 
29-83; Temp., 37.7; Clouds Alt., St., 1; Wind, 1; Mag, S.; Iceblink B.; 
Water Sky W. 





Noon 


Alt. 





23—33—35 

+2 


£0 

6% 


2 | 23—35—25 
11—47—12 6 

+15— 56 

12— 8—38 

—9 


25 

300 

iO | 325 

5—25 
11—48—58 


11—54—38 
90 

78— 5—22 
11—54—23 
89—59—45 



Shadows 28 ft. (of 6 ft. pole). 

Taking advantage of our brief stay, the boys set 
up the ice-axe and drying sticks, and hung upon them 
their perspiration-wetted and frosted furs to dry. 
Hanging out wet clothes and an American flag at the 
North Pole seemed an amusing incongruity. 

The puzzled standpoint of my Eskimos was amus- 
ing. They tried hard to appreciate the advantages of 
finding this suppositious "tigi shu" (big nail), but 
actually here, they could not, even from a sense of defer- 
ence to me and my judgment, entirely hide their feeling 
of disappointment. 

On the advance I had told them that an actual "big 
nail" would not be found — only the point where it ought 



U i/ ( ^ &&$*f'f? 



w. 




A 



UJ~w* 







OBSERVATION DETERMINING THE POLE PHOTOGRAPH PROM 

ORIGINAL NOTE 



AT THE NORTH POLE 293 

to be. But I think they really hoped that if it had 
actually disappeared they should find that it had come 
back into place after all! 

In building our igloo the boys frequently looked 
about expectantly. Often they ceased cutting snow- 
blocks and rose to a hummock to search the horizon for 
something which, to their idea, must mark this impor- 
tant spot, for which we had struggled against hope and 
all the dictates of personal comforts. At each breath- 
ing spell their eager eyes picked some sky sign which to 
them meant land or water, or the play of some god of 
land or sea. The naive and sincere interest which the 
Eskimos on occasions feel in the mystery of the spirit- 
world gives them an imaginative appreciation of nature 
often in excess of that of the more material and skeptical 
Caucasian. 

Arriving at the mysterious place where, they felt, 
something should happen, their imagination now forced 
an expression of disappointment. In a high-keyed con- 
dition, all their superstitions recurred to them with 
startling reality. 

In one place the rising vapor proved to be the breath 
of the great submarine god — the "Ko-Koyah." In an- 
other place, a motionless little cloud marked the land in 
which dwelt the "Turnah-huch-suak" the great Land 
God, and the air spirits were represented by the differ- 
ent winds, with sex relations. 

Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shook, with the astuteness of 
the aborigine, who reads Nature as a book, were sharp 
enough to note that the high air currents did not cor- 
respond to surface currents ; for, although the wind was 
blowing homeward, and changed its force and direc- 



294 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

tion, a few high clouds moved persistently in a different 
direction. 

This, to them, indicated a warfare among the air 
spirits. The ice and snow were also animated. To 
them the whole world presented a rivalry of conflicting 
spirits which offered never-ending topics of conver- 
sation. 

As the foot pressed the snow, its softness, its re- 
bound, or its metallic ring indicated sentiments of 
friendliness or hostility. The ice, by its color, move- 
ment or noise, spoke the humor of its animation, or that 
of the supposed life of the restless sea beneath it. In 
interpreting these spirit signs, the two expressed con- 
siderable difference of opinion. Ah-we-lah saw dra- 
matic situations and became almost hysterical with 
excitement; E-tuk-i-shook saw only a monotone of the 
normal play of life. Such was the trend of interest and 
conversation as the building of the igloos was completed. 

Contrary to our usual custom, the dogs had been 
allowed to rest in their traces attached to the sleds. 
Their usual malicious inquisitiveness exhausted, they 
were too tired to examine the sleds to steal food. But 
now, as the house was completed, holes were chipped 
with a knife in ice-shoulders, through which part of a 
trace was passed, and each team was thus securely 
fastened to a ring cut in ice-blocks. Then each dog 
was given a double ration of pemmican. Their pleasure 
was expressed by an extra twist of the friendly tails and 
an extra note of gladness from long-contracted stom- 
achs. Finishing their meal, they curled up and warmed 
the snow, from which they took an occasional bite to 
furnish liquid for their gastric economy. Almost two 



AT THE NORTH POLE 295 

days of rest followed, and this was the canine celebra- 
tion of the Polar attainment. 

We withdrew to the inside of the dome of snow- 
blocks, pulled in a block to close the doors, spread out 
our bags as beds on the platform of leveled snow, pulled 
off boots and trousers, and slipped half-length into the 
bristling reindeer furs. We then discussed, with 
chummy congratulations, the success of our long drive 
to the world's end. 

While thus engaged, the little Juel stove piped the 
cheer of the pleasure of ice-water, soon to quench our 
chronic thirst. In the meantime, Ah-we-lah and E-tuk- 
i-shook pressed farther and farther into their bags, 
pulled over the hoods, and closed their eyes to an over- 
powering fatigue. But my lids did not easily close. I 
watched the fire. More ice went into the kettle. With 
the satisfaction of an ambition fulfilled, I peeped out 
occasionally through the pole-punched port, and noted 
the horizon glittering with gold and purple. 

Quivers of self -satisfying joy ran up my spine and 
relieved the frosty mental bleach of the long-delayed 
Polar anticipation. 

In due time we drank, with grateful satisfaction, 
large quantities of ice-water, which was more delicious 
than any wine. A pemmican soup, flavored with musk 
ox tenderloins, steaming with heat — a luxury seldom 
enjoyed in our camps — next went down with warming, 
satisfying gulps. This was followed by a few strips 
of frozen fresh meat, then by a block of pemmican. 
Later, a few squares of musk ox suet gave the taste of 
sweets to round up our meal. Last of all, three cups 
of tea spread the chronic stomach-folds, after which we 



296 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

reveled in the sense of fulness of the best meal of 
many weeks. 

With full stomachs and the satisfaction of a worthy 
task well performed, we rested. 

We had reached the zenith of man's Ultima Thule, 
which had been sought for more than three centuries. 
In comfortable berths of snow we tried to sleep, turning 
with the earth on its northern axis. 

But sleep for me was impossible. At six o'clock, 
or six hours after our arrival at local noon, I arose, went 
out of the igloo, and took a double set of observations. 
Returning, I did some figuring, lay down on my bag, 
and at ten o'clock, or four hours later, leaving Ah-we-lah 
to guard the camp and dogs, E-tuk-i-shook joined me to 
make a tent camp about four miles to the magnetic 
south. My object was to have a slightly different posi- 
tion for subsequent observations. 

Placing our tent, bags and camp equipment on a 
sled, we pushed it over the ice field, crossed a narrow 
lead sheeted with young ice, and moved on to another 
field which seemed to have much greater dimensions. 
We erected the tent not quite two hours later, in time 
for a midnight observation. These sextant readings of 
the sun's altitude were continued for the next twenty- 
four hours. 

In the idle times between observations, I went over 
to a new break between the field on which we were 
camped and that on which Ah-we-lah guarded the dogs. 
Here the newly-formed sheets of ice slid over each other 
as the great, ponderous fields stirred to and fro. A 
peculiar noise, like that of a crying child, arose. It 
came seemingly from everywhere, intermittently, in 



AT THE NORTH POLE 297 

successive crying spells. Lying down, and putting my 
fur-cushioned ear to the edge of the old ice, I heard a 
distant thundering noise, the reverberations of the 
moving, grinding pack, which, by its wind-driven sweep, 
was drifting over the unseen seas of mystery. In an 
effort to locate the cry, I searched diligently along the 
lead. I came to a spot where two tiny pieces of ice 
served as a mouthpiece. About every fifteen seconds 
there were two or three sharp, successive cries. With 
the ice-axe I detached one. The cries stopped; but 
other cries were heard further along the fine. 

The time for observations was at hand, and I re- 
turned to take up the sextant. Returning later to the 
lead, to watch the seas breathe, the cry seemed stilled. 
The thin ice-sheets were cemented together, and in an 
open space nearby I had an opportunity to study the 
making and breaking of the polar ice. 

That tiny film of ice which voiced the baby cries 
spreads the world's most irresistible power. In its 
making we have the nucleus for the origin of the polar 
pack, that great moving crust of the earth which 
crunches ships, grinds rocks, and sweeps mountains into 
the sea. Beginning as a mere microscopic crystal, suc- 
cessive crystals, by their affinity to each other, unite to 
make a disc. These discs, by the same law of cohesion, 
assemble and unite. Now the thin sheet, the first sea 
ice, is complete, and either rests to make the great field 
of ice, or spreads from floe to floe and from field to 
field, thus spreading, bridging and mending the great 
moving masses which cover the mid-polar basin. 

Another law of nature was solved by a similar 
insignificant incident. In spreading our things out to 



298 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

air and dry (for things will dry in wind and sun, even 
at a very low temperature), two pieces of canvas were 
thrown on a hummock. It was a white canvas sled- 
cover and a black strip of canvas, in which the boat fit- 
tings were wrapped. When these strips of canvas were 
lifted it was found that under the part of the black 
canvas, resting on a slope at right angles to the sun, 
the snow had melted and recongealed. Under the white 
canvas the snow had not changed. The temperature 
was — 41°; we had felt no heat, but this black canvas 
had absorbed enough heat from a feeble sun to melt 
the snow beneath it. This little lesson in physics began 
to interest me, and on the return many similar experi- 
ments were made. As the long, tedious marches were 
made, I asked myself the questions: Why is snow 
white? Why is the sky blue? And why does black 
burn snow when white does not? 

Little by little, in the long drive of monotony, sat- 
isfactory answers came to these questions. Thus, in 
seeking abstract knowledge, the law of radiation was 
thoroughly examined. In doing this, there came to me 
slowly the solution of various problems of animal life, 
and eventually there was uncovered what to me proved 
a startling revelation in the incidents that led up to 
animal coloring in the Arctic. For here I found that 
the creatures' fur and feathers were colored in accord 
with their needs of absorbing external heat or of con- 
serving internal heat. The facts here indicated will be 
presented later, when we deal with the snow-fitted crea- 
tures at close range. 

One of the impressions which I carried with me of 
this night march was that the sun seemed low — lower, 



AT THE NORTH POLE 299 

indeed, than that of midday, which, in reality, was not 
true, for the observations placed it nine minutes higher. 
This was an indication of the force of habit. In the 
northward march we had noted a considerable relative 
difference in the height of the night sun and that of the 
day. Although this difference had vanished now, the 
mind at times refused to grasp the remarkable change.* 

At the Pole I was impressed by a peculiar uni- 
formity in the temperature of the atmosphere through- 
out the twenty-four hours, and also by a strange mono- 
tone in color and light of sea and sky. I had begun 
to observe this as I approached the boreal center. The 
strange equability of light and color, of humidity and of 
air temperatures extended an area one hundred miles 
about the Pole. This was noted both on my coming 
and going over this district. 

Approaching the Pole, and as the night sun grad- 
ually lifted, an increasing equalization of the tempera- 
ture of night and day followed. Three hundred miles 
from the Pole the thermometer at night had been from 
10° to 20° lower than during the day. There the shiver- 
ing chill of midnight made a strong contrast to the burn- 
ing, heatless glitter of midday. At the Pole the ther- 
mometer did not rise or fall appreciably for certain 
fixed hours of the day or night, but remained almost 
uniform during the entire twenty-four hours. 

* After trying to explain this impression fifteen months later to a 
Swiss professor, who spoke little English, he quoted me as saying that the 
sun at night about the Pole was much lower than at noon. No such 
ridiculous remark was ever made. In reality the eye did not detect any 
difference in the distance between the sun and the horizon through the next 
twenty-four hours. There was no visible rise or set, the night dip of the 
nocturnal swing of the sun was entirely eliminated. We had, however, 
several ways of checking this important phenomena, which will be intro- 
duced later. 



SOO MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

This, to a less notable extent, was true also of the 
barometer. Farther south there had been a difference 
in the day and night range of the barometer. Here, 
although the night winds continued more actively than 
those of the day, the barometer was less variable than at 
any time on my journey. 

At the Pole the tendency of change in force and 
direction of air currents, observed farther south, for 
morning and evening periods, was no longer noted. But 
when strong winds brushed the pack, a good deal of the 
Polar equalization gave place to a radical difference, 
giving a period for high and low temperatures; which 
period, however, did not correspond to the usual hours 
of day or night. The winds, therefore, seemed to carry 
to us the sub-Polar inequality of atmospheric variation 
in temperature and pressure. Many of the facts bear- 
ing upon this problem were not learned until later. 
Subsequently, I learned, also, that strong winds often 
disturb the Polar atmospheric sameness; but all is given 
here because of the striking impression which it made 
upon me at this time. 

In the region about the Pole I observed that, 
although there were remarkable and beauteous color 
blendings in the sky, the intense contrasts and the spec- 
tacular display of cloud effects, seen in more southern 
regions, were absent. 

A color suffusion is common throughout the entire 
Arctic zone. Light, pouring from the low-lying sun, 
is reflected from the ice in an indescribable blaze. From 
millions of ice slopes, with millions and millions of tiny 
reflecting surfaces, each one a mirror, some large, some 
smaller than specks of diamond dust, this light is sent 



AT THE NORTH POLE 301 

back in different directions in burning waves to the sky. 
A liquid bight seems forced back from the sky into every 
tiny crevice of this be jeweled wonderland. One color 
invariably predominates at a time. Sometimes the ice 
and air and sky are suffused with a hue of rose, again of 
orange, again of a light alloyed yellow, again blue ; and, 
as we get farther north, more dominantly purple. Far- 
ther south, in our journey northward, we had viewed 
color effects in reality incomparably more beautiful than 
those in the regions about the Pole. The sun, farther 
south, in rising and setting, and with limitless changes 
of polarized and refracted light, passing through strata 
of atmosphere of varying depths of different density, 
produces kaleidoscopic changes of burning color. 

At the Pole there were sunbursts, but because of 
the slight change in the sun's dip to the horizon, the pre- 
vailing light was invariably in shades running to purple. 
At first my imagination evoked a more glowing wonder 
than in reality existed; as the hours wore on, and as the 
wants of my body asserted themselves, I began to see 
the vacant spaces with a disillusionizing eye. 

The set of observations given here, taken every six 
hours, from noon on April 21 to midnight on April 22, 
1908, fixed our position with reasonable certainty. 

These figures do not give the exact position for the 
normal spiral ascent of the sun, which is about fifty sec- 
onds for each hour, or five minutes for each six hours; 
but the uncertainties of error by refraction and ice-drift 
do not permit such accuracy of observations. These 
figures are submitted, therefore, not to establish the pin- 
point accuracy of our position, but to show that we had 
approximately reached a spot where the sun, throughout 



302 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the twenty-four hours, circled the heavens in a line 
nearly parallel to the horizon. 

THE SUN'S TRUE CENTRAL ALTITUDE AT THE POLE. 
April 21 and 22, 1908. 

Seven successive observations, taken every six hours. 

Each observation is reduced for an instrumental error of -j-2'. 

For semi-diameter and also for refraction and parallax, — 9'. 

The seven reductions are each calculated from two sextant readings, 
generally of an upper and lower limb. 

(TAKEN FROM MY FIELD 
NOTES.) 
April 21, 1908, 97th meridian local 
time — 12 o'clock noon — 11° — 54'— 40" 
6 P. M. (same camp). 12 — 00—10 
Moved camp 4 miles magnetic South 
12 o'clock (midnight) 12— a— 50 

April 22nd, 6 A. M. 12— 9—30 

12 o'clock noon 12—14—20 

6 P. M. 12— 18--10 

12 o'clock (midnight) 12—25—10 
Temperature, 41. Barometer, 30.05. 
Shadow 27% feet (of 6-foot pole). 

With the use of the sextant, the artificial horizon, 
pocket chronometers, and the usual instruments and 
methods of explorers, our observations were continued 
and our positions were fixed with the most painstak- 
ingly careful safeguards possible against inaccuracy. 
The value of all such observations as proof of a Polar 
success, however, is open to such interpretation as the 
future may determine. This applies, not only to me, 
but to anyone who bases any claim upon them. 

To me there were many seemingly insignificant 
facts noted in our northward progress which left the 
imprint of milestones. Our footprints marked a road 
ever onward into the unknown. Many of these almost 
unconscious reckonings took the form of playful im- 
pressions, and were not even at the time written down. 

In the first press reports of my achievement there 
was not space to go into minute details, nor did the pres- 



AT THE NORTH POLE 303 

entation of the subject permit an elaboration on all the 
data gathered. But now, in the light of a better per- 
spective, it seems important that every possible phase of 
the minutest detail be presented. For only by a careful 
consideration of every phase of every phenomena en 
route can a true verdict be obtained upon this widely 
discussed subject of Polar attainment. 

And now, right here, I want you to consider care- 
fully with me one thing which made me feel sure that 
we had reached the Pole. This is the subject of shad- 
ows — our own shadows on the snow-covered ice. A 
seemingly unimportant phenomenon which had often 
been a topic of discussion, and so commonplace that I 
only rarely referred to it in my notebooks, our own 
shadows on the snow-cushioned ice had told of north- 
ward movement, and ultimately proved to my satisfac- 
tion that the Pole had been reached. 

In our northward progress — -to explain my shadow 
observations from the beginning — for a long time after 
our start from Svortevoeg, our shadows did not per- 
ceptibly shorten or brighten, to my eyes. The natives, 
however, got from these shadows a never-ending variety 
of topics of conversation. They foretold storms, located 
game and read the story of home entanglements. Far 
from land, far from every sign of a cheering, solid earth, 
wandering with our shadows over the hopeless desola- 
tion of the moving seas of glitter, I, too, took a keen 
interest in the blue blots that represented our bodies. 
At noon, by comparison with later hours, they were 
sharp, short, of a dark, restful blue. At this time a 
thick atmosphere of crystals rested upon the ice pack, 
and when the sun sank the strongest purple rays could 



Shadow-circle about 250 
miles from the Pole. Circle 
from which extend radiat- 
ing shadow-lines mark po- 
sition of man. 



3UN tKKTH 





Shadow-circle when nearing 
the Pole, showing less differ- 
ence in length during the 
changing hours. 



Shadow-circle at the Pole; 
standing on the same spot, 
at each hour, one's shadow 
is always apparently of the 
same length. 




mid-£w 



SHADOW-CIRCLES INDICATING THE APPROACH TO THE POLE 

Showing approximately the relative length of a man's shadow 

for each hour of the twenty-four-hour day. 



AT THE NORTH POLE 805 

not penetrate the frosty haze. Long before the time for 
sunset, even on clear days, the sun was lost in low clouds 
of drifting needles. 

After passing the eighty-eighth parallel there was 
a notable change in our shadows. The night shadow 
lengthened; the day shadow, by comparison, shortened. 
The boys saw in this something which they could not 
understand. The positive blue grew to a permanent 
purple, and the sharp outlines ran to vague, indeter- 
minate edges. 

Now at the Pole there was no longer any difference 
in length, color or sharpness of outline between the 
shadow of the day or night. 

"What does it all mean?" they asked. The Eski- 
mos looked with eager eyes at me to explain, but my 
vocabulary was not comprehensive enough to give them 
a really scientific explanation, and also my brain was too 
weary from the muscular poison of fatigue to frame 
words. 

The shadows of midnight and those of midday were 
the same. The sun made a circle about the heavens in 
which the eye detected no difference in its height above 
the ice, either night or day. Throughout the twenty- 
four hours there was no perceptible rise or set in the 
sun's seeming movement. Now, at noon, the shadow 
represented in its length the altitude of the sun — about 
twelve degrees. At six o'clock it was the same. At 
midnight it was the same. At six o'clock in the morn- 
ing it was the same. 

A picture of the snowhouse and ourselves, taken at 
the same time and developed a year later, gives the same 
length of shadow. The compass pointed south. The 



306 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 




sun r^^fi. 



At a latitude about New York, a man's shadow lengthens 
hour by hour as the sun descends toward the horizon at 
nightfall. 

night drop of the thermometer had vanished. Let us, 
for the sake of argument, grant that all our instru- 
mental observations are wrong. Here is a condition of 
things in which I believed, and still believe, the eye, with- 
out instrumental assistance, places the sun at about the 




At the North Pole, a man's shadow is of equal length 
during the entire twenty-four hours, since the sun moves 
spirally around the heavens at about the same apparent 
height above the horizon throughout the twenty-four-hour 
day. 



AT THE NORTH POLE 307 

same height for every hour of the day and night. It is 
only on the earth's axis that such an observation is 
possible. 

There was about us no land. No fixed point. Ab- 
solutely nothing upon which to rest the eye to give the 
sense of location or to judge distance. 

Here everything moves. The sea breathes, and 
lifts the crust of ice which the wind stirs. The pack 
ever drifts in response to the pull of the air and the 
drive of the water. Even the sun, the only fixed dot 
in this stirring, restless world, where all you see is, with- 
out your seeing it, moving like a ship at sea, seems to 
have a rapid movement in a gold-flushed circle not far 
above endless fields of purple crystal; but that move- 
ment is never higher, never lower — always in the same 
fixed path. The instruments detect a slight spiral 
ascent, day after day, but the eye detects no change. 

Although I had measured our shadows at times on 
the northward march, at the Pole these shadow nota- 
tions were observed with the same care as the measured 
altitude of the sun by the sextant. A series was made 
on April 22, after E-tuk-i-shook and I had left Ah- 
we-lah in charge of our first camp at the Pole. We 
made a little circle for our feet in the snow. E-tuk- 
i-shook stood in the foot circle. At midnight the first 
fine was cut in the snow to the end of his shadow, and 
then I struck a deep hole with the ice-axe. Every hour 
a similar line was drawn out from his foot. At the end 
of twenty-four hours, with the help of Ah-we-lah, a 
circle was circumscribed along the points, which marked 
the end of the shadow for each hour. The result is 
represented in the snow diagram on the next page. 




SHADOW DIAL AT THE POLE 



At the Pole, a man's shadow is about the same length for every hour of the 
double day. When a shadow line is drawn in the snow from a man's foot in a 
marked dial, the human shadows take the place of the hands of a clock and 
mark the time by compass bearing. The relative length of these shadows also 
give the latitude or a man's position north or south of the equator. When 
during two turns around the clock dial, the shadows are all of about equal length, 
the position of the earth's axis is positively reached — even if all other obser- 
vations fail. This simple demonstration is an indisputable proof of being on 
the North Pole. 



AT THE NORTH POLE 



S09 



In the northward march we did not stay up all of 
bedtime to play with shadow circles. But, at this time, 
to E-tuk-i-shook the thing had a spiritual interest. To 
me it was a part of the act of proving that the Pole had 
been attained. For only about the Pole, I argued, 
could all shadows be of equal length. Because of this 
combination of keen interests, we managed to find an 
excuse, even during sleep hours, to draw a line on our 
shadow circle. 

Here, then, I felt, was an important observation 
placing me with fair accuracy at the Pole, and, unlike 
all other observations, it was not based on the impossible 
dreams of absolutely accurate time or sure corrections 
for refraction. 

HOW THE ALTITUDE OF THE SUN ABOVE THE HORIZON 
FIXES THE POSITION OF THE NORTH POLE 

OBSERVED ALTITUDES. APRIL «. 1B08 



6 A.M. 
12° 9' 30* 



NOON 
12° 14' 20" 



8 P.M. 

12° 18' 40" 



! ; I i ! I i I S I ! 




The exact altitude of the sun at noon of April 22, 1908, on the pole, was 
12° 9' 16", but owing to ice-drift — the impossibility of accurate time — and 
unknown error by refraction, no such pin-point accuracy can be recorded. 
At each hour the sun, circling about the horizon, cast a shadow of uniform 
length. 



810 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

At the place where E-tuk-i-shook and I camped, 
four miles south of where I had left Ah-we-lah with the 
dogs, only two big ice hummocks were in sight. There 
were more spaces of open water than at our first camp. 
After a midnight observation — of April 22 — we re- 
turned to camp. When the dogs saw us approaching in 
the distance they rose, and a chorus of howls rang over 
the regions of the Pole — regions where dogs had never 
howled before. All the scientific work being finished, 
we began hastily to make final preparations for 
departure. 

We had spent two days about the North Pole. 
After the first thrills of victory, the glamor wore away 
as we rested and worked. Although I tried to do so, I 
could get no sensation of novelty as we pitched our last 
belongings on the sleds. The intoxication of success 
had gone. I suppose intense emotions are invariably 
followed by reactions. Hungry, mentally and physic- 
ally exhausted, a sense of the utter uselessness of this 
thing, of the empty reward of my endurance, followed 
my exhilaration. I had grasped my ignus fatuus. It is 
a misfortune for any man when his ignus fatuus fails 
to elude him. 

During those last hours I asked myself why this 
place had so aroused an enthusiasm long-lasting through 
self-sacrificing years; why, for so many centuries, men 
had sought this elusive spot? What a futile thing, 1 
thought, to die for! How tragically mseless all those 
heroic efforts — efforts, in themselves, a travesty, an 
ironic satire, on much vainglorious human aspiration and 
endeavor ! I thought of the enthusiasm of the people who 
read of the spectacular efforts of men to reach this 




W H 



AT THE NORTH POLE 311 

vacant silver-shining goal of death. I thought, too, in 
that hour, of the many men of science who were devoting 
their lives to the study of germs, the making of toxins; 
to the saving of men from the grip of disease — men who 
often lost their own lives in their experiments; whose 
world and work existed in unpicturesque laboratories, 
and for whom the laudations of people never rise. It 
occurred to me — and I felt the bitterness of tears in my 
soul — that it is often the showy and futile deeds of men 
which men praise; and that, after all, the only work 
worth while, the only value of a human being's efforts, 
lie in deeds whereby humanity benefits. Such work as 
noble bands of women accomplish who go into the slums 
of great cities, who nurse the sick, who teach the igno- 
rant, who engage in social service humbly, patiently, un- 
expectant of any reward ! Such work as does the scien- 
tist who studies the depredations of malignant germs, 
who straightens the body of the crippled child, who pre- 
cipitates a toxin which cleanses the blood of a frightful 
and loathsome disease ! 

As my eye sought the silver and purple desert about 
me for some stable object upon which to fasten itself, I 
experienced an abject abandon, an intolerable loneliness. 
With my two companions I could not converse; in my 
thoughts and emotions they could not share. I was 
alone. I was victorious. But how desolate, how dread- 
ful was this victory! About us was no life, no spot to 
relieve the monotony of frost. We were the only pul- 
sating creatures in a dead world of ice. 

A wild eagerness to get back to land seized me. It 
seemed as though some new terror had arisen from the 
icy waters. Something huge, something baneful . . . 



312 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

invisible . . . yet whose terror-inspiring, burning 
eyes I felt . . . the master genii of the goal, per- 
haps . . . some vague, terrible, disembodied spirit 
force, condemned for some unimaginable sin to solitary 
prisonment here at the top of the world, and who wove 
its malignant, awful spell, and had lured men on for cen- 
turies to their destruction. . . . The desolation of 
the place was such that it was almost palpable; it was a 
thing I felt I must touch and see. My companions 
felt the heavy load of it upon them, and from the few 
words I overheard I knew they were eagerly picturing 
to themselves the simple joys of existence at Etah and 
Annoatok. I remember that to me came pictures of my 
Long Island home. All this arose, naturally enough, 
from the reaction following the strain of striving so long 
and so fiercely after the goal, combined with the sense of 
the great and actual peril of our situation. But what a 
cheerless spot this was, to have aroused the ambition of 
man for so many ages ! 

There came forcibly, too, the thought that although 
the Pole was discovered, it was not essentially discov- 
ered, that it could be discovered, in the eyes of the 
world, unless we could return to civilization and tell 
what we had done. Should we be lost in these wastes or 
should we be frozen to death, or buried in the snow, or 
drowned in a crevasse, it would never be known that we 
had been here. It was, therefore, as vitally necessary to 
get back in touch with human life, with our report, as it 
had been to get to the Pole. 

Before leaving, I enclosed a note, written on the 
previous day, in a metallic tube. This I buried in the 
surface of the Polar snows. I knew, of course, that this 




JJ G^^"**^'^tb. ****** try* 

fax, cmjl, **./**&£ 7U**fK *^ ««t^vt 
/^V** /W If * xtf^* TA^» K,'« fr*. t4^ n+<*y£* 

/^/**U&- <^£wc* Ui $-6 *^ & et*,u£ 

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RECORD XEFT IN BRASS TUBE AT NORTH POLE 



AT THE NORTH POLE 



>v* <?•»• 




POLAR ADVANCE OF THE NATIONAL STANDARDS 
Climax of four centuries of Arctic exploration — Stars and Stripes at the Pole. 

would not remain long at the spot, as the ice was in the 
grip of a slow-drifting movement. I felt the possibility 
of this slow movement was more important than if it 
remained stationary ; for, if ever found in the south, the 
destination of the tube would indicate the ice drift from 
the Pole. The following is an exact copy of the 
original note, which is reproduced photographically on 
another page: 

COPY OP NOTE IN TUBE. 

April 31— at the North Pole. 

Accompanied by the Eskimo boys Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shuk I 
reached at noon to-day 90" N. a spot on the polar sea 520 miles north of 
Svartevoeg. We were 35 days en route. Hope to return to-morrow on a 
line slightly west of the northward track. 

New land was discovered along the 102 M. between 84 and 85. The 
ice proved fairly good, with few open leads, hard snow and little pressure 
trouble. We are in good health, and have food for forty days. This, with 
the meat of the dogs to be sacrificed, will keep us alive for fifty or sixty 
days. 

This note is deposited with a small American flag in a metallic tube 
on the drifting ice. 

Its return will be appreciated, to the International Bureau of Polar 
Research at the Royal Observatory, Uccle, Belgium. 

(Signed) FREDERICK A. COOK. 



THE RETURN— A BATTLE FOR LIFE 
AGAINST FAMINE AND FROST 

TURNED BACKS TO THE POLE AND TO THE SUN — *THE DOGS, 
SEEMINGLY GLAD AND SEEMINGLY SENSIBLE THAT 
THEIR NOSES WERE POINTED HOMEWARD, BARKED 

SHRILLY SUFFERING FROM INTENSE DEPRESSION 

THE DANGERS OF MOVING ICE, OF STORMS AND SLOW 

STARVATION THE THOUGHT OF FIVE HUNDRED AND 

TWENTY MILES TO LAND CAUSES DESPAIR 

XXI 

Southward Over the Mid-Polar Sea 

With few glances backward, we continued the 
homeward run in haste, crossing many new crevasses 
and bound on a course along the one hundredth meri- 
dian. 

The eagerness to solve the mystery had served its 
purpose. The memory of the adventure for a time re- 
mained as a reminder of reckless daring. As we now 
moved along, there came more and more strongly the 
realization of the prospective difficulties of the return. 
Although the mercury was still frozen and the sun's 
perpetual flush was lost in a frigid blue, the time was 
at hand in lower latitudes for the ice to break and drift 
southward. 



THE RETURN 315 

With correct reasoning, all former expeditions had 
planned to return to land and a secure line of retreat 
by May 1. We could not hope to do this until early 
in June. It seemed probable, therefore, that the ice 
along the outskirts of the Polar sea would be much dis- 
rupted and that open water, small ice and rapid drifts 
would seriously interfere with our return to a sure foot- 
ing on the shores of Fridtjof Nansen Sound. This and 
many other possible dangers had been carefully con- 
sidered before, but the conquest of the Pole was not 
possible without such risks. 

We had started earlier than all other Polar expedi- 
tions and no time had been lost en route. If misfortune 
came to us, it could not be because of wasted energies 
or unnecessary delay. In the last days of the onward 
rush to success there had been neither time nor oppor- 
tunity to ponder over future dangers, but now, facing 
the southern skies, under which lay home and all for 
which we lived, the back trail seemed indescribably long. 
In cold, sober thought, freed of the intoxication of 
Polar enthusiasm, the difficulties increasingly darkened 
in color. We clearly saw that the crucial stage of the 
campaign was not the taking of the Pole. The test of 
our fitness as boreal conquerors was to be measured by 
the outcome of a final battle for lif e against famine and 
frost. 

Figuring out the difficulties and possibilities of 
our return, I came to the conclusion that to endeavor 
to get back by our upward trail would not afford great 
advantage. Much time would be lost seeking the trail. 
The almost continuous low drift of snow during some 
part of nearly every day would obliterate our tracks 



316 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

and render the trail useless as a beaten track in making 
travel easier. The advantage of previously constructed 
snow houses as camps did not appeal to us. 

After one is accustomed to a new, clean, bright 
dome of snow every night, as we were, the return to such 
a camp is gloomy and depressing. The house is almost 
invariably left in such a shape that, for hygienic reasons 
alone, it should not be occupied. Furthermore, the in- 
fluence of sun and storm absolutely destroys in a few 
days two out of three of all such shelter places. More- 
over, we were now camping in our silk tent and did not 
require other shelter. At the season of the year in 
which we were traveling, the activity of the pack farther 
south made back-tracking impossible, because of irregu- 
lar lateral drift of individual fields. And to me the 
most important reason was an eager desire to ascertain 
what might be discovered on a new trail farther west. 
It was this eagerness which led to our being carried 
adrift and held prisoners for a year. 

The first days, however, passed rapidly. The ice 
fields became smoother. On April 24 we crossed five 
crevasses. With fair weather and favorable ice, long 
marches were made. On the 24th we made sixteen 
miles, on the 25th fifteen miles, on the 26th, 27th and 
28th, fourteen miles a day. The fire of the homing 
sentiment began to dispel our overbearing fatigue. The 
dogs sniffed the air. The Eskimos sang songs of the 
chase. To me also there came cheering thoughts of 
friends and loved ones to be greeted. I thought of de- 
lightful dinners, of soul-stirring music. For all of us, 
the good speed of the return chase brought a mental 
atmosphere of dreams of the pleasures of another world. 



THE RETURN 317 

For a time we were blinded to ultimate dangers, just as 
we had been in the northward dash. 

In our return along the one hundredth meridian, 
there were three important objects to be gained by a 
route somewhat west of the northward march. The in- 
creasing easterly drift would thus be counterbalanced. 
We hoped to get near enough to the new lands to ex- 
plore a part of the coast. And a wider belt would be 
swept out of the unknown area. On April 80 the pedom- 
eter registered one hundred and twenty-one miles, and 
by our system of dead reckoning, which was usually cor- 
rect, we should have been at latitude 87°, 59', longi- 
tude 100°. The nautical observations gave latitude 
88°, 1', longitude 97°, 42'. We were drifting eastward, 
therefore, with increasing speed. To counterbalance 
our being moved by this drift, we turned and bounded 
southward in a more westerly course. 

The never-changing sameness of the daily routine 
was again felt. The novelty of success and the passion 
of the run for the goal were no longer operative. The 
scenes of shivering blue wearied the eye, and there was 
no inspiration in the moving sea of ice to gladden the 
heart. The thermometer rose and fell between 30 and 
40° below zero, Fahrenheit, with a ceaseless wind. The 
first of May was at hand, bringing to mind the blossoms 
and smiles of a kindly world. But here all nature was 
narrowed to lines of ice. 

May 1 came with increasing color in the sunbursts, 
but without cheer. The splendor of terrestrial fire was 
a cheat. Over the horizon, mirages displayed celestial 
hysterics. The sun circled the skies in lines of glory, 
but its heat was a sham, its light a torment. The ice 



318 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

was heavy and smooth. On May 2, clouds obscured 
the sky, fog fell heavily over the iee, we struck our 
course with difficulty but made nineteen miles. On 
May 3 snow fell, but the end of the march brought 
clear skies, and, with them, the longing for my land of 
blossoming cherry and apple trees. 

With weary nerves, and with compass in hand, my 
lonely march ahead of the sledges continued day by 
day. Progress was satisfactory. We had passed the 
eighty-ninth and eighty-eighth parallels. The eighty- 
seventh and the eighty-sixth would soon be under foot, 
and the sight of the new lands should give encourage- 
ment. These hard-fought times were days long to be 
remembered. The lack of cerebral stimulation and nu- 
trition left no cellular resource to aid the memory of 
those fateful hours of chill. 

The long strain of the march had established a 
brotherly sympathy amongst the trio of human strug- 
gles. The dogs, though still possessing the savage fe- 
rocity of the wolf, had taken U6 into their community. 
We now moved among them without hearing a grunt 
of discord, and their sympathetic eyes followed until we 
were made comfortable on the cheerless snows. If they 
happened to be placed near enough, they edged up and 
encircled us, giving the benefit of their animal heat. To 
remind us of their presence, frost-covered noses were 
frequently pushed under the sleeping bag, and occa- 
sionally a cold snout touched our warm skin with a rude 
awakening. 

We loved the creatures, and admired their superb 
brute strength. Their superhuman adaptability was 
a frequent topic of conversation. With a pelt that was 



THE RETURN 319 

a guarantee against all weather condition, they threw 
themselves down to the sweep of winds, in open defiance 
of death-dealing storms. Eating but a pound of pem- 
mican a day, and demanding neither water nor shelter, 
they willingly did a prodigious amount of work and 
then, as bed-fellows, daily offered their fur as shelter and 
their bones as head-rests to their two-footed companions. 
We had learned to appreciate the advantage of their 
beating breasts. The bond of animal fellowship had 
drawn tighter and tighter in a long run of successive 
adventures. And now there was a stronger reason than 
ever to appreciate power, for together we were seeking 
an escape from a world which was never intended for 
creatures with pulsating hearts. 

Much very heavy ice was crossed near the eighty- 
eighth parallel, but the endless unbroken fields of the 
northward trails were not again seen. Now the weather 
changed considerably. The light, cutting winds from 
the west increased in force, and the spasmodic squalls 
came at shorter intervals. The clear purples and blues 
of the skies gradually gave place to an ugly hue of gray. 
A rush of frosty needles came over the pack for several 
hours each day. 

The inducement to seek shelter in cemented walls 
of snow and to wait for better weather was very great. 
But such delay would mean certain starvation. Under 
fair conditions, there was barely food enough to reach 
land, and even short delays might seriously jeopardize 
our return. We could not, therefore, do otherwise than 
force ourselves against the wind and drift with all pos- 
sible speed, paying no heed to unavoidable suffering. 
As there was no alternative, we tried to persuade our- 



320 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

selves that existing conditions might be worse than they 
were. 

The hard work of igloo building was now a thing 
of the past — only one had been built since leaving the 
Pole, and in this a precious day was lost, while the at- 
mospheric fury changed the face of the endless expanse 
of desolation. The little silk tent protected us suffi- 
ciently from the icy airs. There were still 50° of frost, 
but, with hardened skins and insensible nerve filaments, 
the torture was not so keenly felt. Our steady diet of 
pemmican, tea and biscuits was not entirely satisfactory. 
We longed for enough to give a real filling sense, but 
the daily ration had to be slightly reduced rather than 
increased. The change in life from winter to summer, 
which should take place at about this time of the year, 
was, in our case, marked only by a change in shelter, 
from the snow house to the tent, and our beds were 
moved from the soft snow shelf of the igloo to the hard, 
wind-swept crust. 

In my watches to get a peep of the sun at just the 
right moment, I was kept awake during much of the 
resting period. For pastime, my eyes wandered from 
snorting dogs to snoring men. During one of these 
idle moments there came a solution of the utility of the 
dog's tail, a topic with which I had been at play for 
several days. It is quoted here at the risk of censure, 
because it is a typical phase of our lives which cannot 
be illustrated otherwise. Seeming trivialities were seized 
upon as food for thought. Why, I asked, has the dog a 
tail at all? The bear, the musk ox, the caribou and the 
hare, each in its own way, succeeds very well with but 
a dwarfed stub. Why does nature, in the dog, expend 



THE RETURN 321 

its best effort in growing the finest fur over a seemingly 
useless line of tail bones? The thing is distinctive, and 
one could hardly conceive of the creature without the 
accessory, but nature in the Arctic does not often waste 
energy to display beauties and temperament. This tail 
must have an important use; otherwise it would soon 
fall under the knife of frost and time. Yes! It was 
imported into the Arctic by the wolf progenitor of the 
dog from warmer lands, where its swing served a useful 
purpose in fly time. A nose made to breathe warm air 
requires some protection in the far north and the dog 
supplied the need with his tail. At the time when I 
made this discovery a cold wind, charged with cutting 
crystal, was brushing the pack. Each dog had his back 
arched to the wind and his face veiled with an effective 
curl of his tail. Thus each was comfortably shielded 
from icy torment by an appendage adapted to that 
very purpose. 

In the long tread over snowy wastes new lessons 
in human mechanism aroused attention. At first the 
effort to find a workable way over the troublesome pack 
surface had kept mind and body keyed to an exciting 
pitch, but slowly this had changed. By a kind of uncon- 
scious intuition, the eye now found easy routes, the 
lower leg mechanically traveled over yards and miles 
and degrees without even consulting the brain, while the 
leg trunk, in the effort to conserve energy, was left in 
repose at periods during miles of travel, thus saving 
much of the exertion of walking. 

The muscles, thus schooled to work automatically, 
left the mind free to work and play. The maddening 
monotone of our routine, together with the expenditure 



&%& MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

of every available strain of force, had left the head 
dizzy with emptiness. Something must be done to lift 
the soul out of the boreal bleach. 

The power of the mind over the horse-power of the 
body was here shown at its best. The flesh proved loyal 
to the gray matter only while mental entertainment was 
encouraged. Thus aching muscles were persuaded to 
do double duty without sending up a cry of tired feeling. 
The play of the mind with topics of its own choosing 
is an advantage worth seeking at all times. But, to us, 
it multiplied vital force and increased greatly the daily 
advance. Science, art and poetry were the heights to 
which the wings of thought soared. Beginning with the 
diversion of making curious speculations on subjects 
such as that of the use of the dog's tail and the Arctic 
law of animal coloring, the first period of this mental 
exercise closed with my staging a drama of the comedies 
and tragedies of the Eskimos. 

In the effort to frame sentiment in measured lines, 
a weird list of topics occupied my strained fancy. In 
more agreeable moods I always found pleasure in imag- 
ining a picture of the Polar sunrise, that budding period 
of life when all Nature awakens after its winter sleep. 
It was not difficult to start E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we- 
lah on similar flights of fancy. A mere suggestion 
would keep up a flow of agreeable thought for several 
days. 

By such forced mental stimuli the centers of fatigue 
were deluded into insensibility. The eighty-seventh 
parallel was crossed, the eighty-sixth was neared, but 
there came a time when both mind and body wearied of 
the whole problem of forced resolution. 



THE RETURN 323 

On May 6 we were stopped at six in the morning by 
the approach of an unusual gale. The wind had been 
steady and strong all night, but we did not heed its 
threatening increase of force until too late. It came 
from the west, as usual, driving coarse snow with needle 
points. The ice about was old and hummocky, offering 
a difficult line of march, but some shelter. In the strong- 
est blasts we threw ourselves over the sled behind hum- 
mocks and gathered new breath to force a few miles 
more. 

Finally, when no longer able to force the dogs 
through the blinding drift we sought the lee of an un- 
lifted block of ice. Here suitable snow was found for a 
snow house. A few blocks were cut and set, but the wind 
swept them away as if they were chips. The tent was 
tried, but it could not be made to stand in the rush of 
the roaring tumult. In sheer despair we crept into the 
tent without erecting the pole. Creeping into bags, we 
then allowed the flapping silk to be buried by the drift- 
ing snow. Soon the noise and discomfort of the storm 
were lost and we enjoyed the comfort of an icy grave. 
An efficient breathing hole was kept open, and the wind 
was strong enough to sweep off the weight of a danger- 
ous drift. A new lesson was thus learned in fighting 
the battle of life, and it was afterwards useful. 

Several days of icy despair now followed one an- 
other in rapid succession. The wind did not rise to the 
full force of a storm, but it was too strong and too cold 
to travel. The food supply was noticeably decreasing. 
The daily advance was less. With such weather, starva- 
tion seemed inevitable. Camp was moved nearly every 
day, but ambition sank to the lowest ebb. To the atmos.- 



324 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

pheric unrest was added the instability of broken ice 
and the depressing mystery of an unknown position. 
For many days no observations had been possible. Our 
location could only be guessed at. 

Through driving storms, with the wind wailing in 
our ears and deafening us to the dismal howling of the 
hungry dogs, we pushed forward in a daily maddening 
struggle. The route before us was unknown. We were 
in the fateful clutch of a drifting sea of ice. I could not 
guess whither we were bound. At times I even lost hope 
of reaching land. Our bodies were tired. Our legs 
were numb. We were almost insensible to the mad 
craving hunger of our stomachs. We were living on a 
half ration of food, and daily becoming weaker.* 

Sometimes I paused, overcome by an almost over- 
whelming impulse to lie down and drift through sleep 
into death. At these times, fortunately, thoughts of 
home came thronging, with memories as tender as are 
the memories of singing spring-time birds in winter 



*The Fall of Body Temperature — The temperature of the body was 
frequently taken. Owing to the breathing of very cold air, the ther- 
mometer placed in the mouth gave unreliable results, but by placing the 
bulb in the armpits, when in the sleeping bag, fairly accurate records 
were kept. These proved that extreme cold had little influence on bodily 
heat; but when long-continued overwork was combined with insufficient 
food, the temperature gradually came down. On the route to the Pole 
the bodily temperature ranged from 97° 5' to 98° 4'. In returning, the 
subnormal temperature fell still lower. When the worry of being carried 
adrift and the danger of never being able to return became evident, then 
the mental anguish, combined as it was with prolonged overwork, con- 
tinued thirst and food insufliciency, was strikingly noted by our clinical 
thermometer. During the last few weeks, before reaching land at Green- 
land in 1909, the subnormal temperature sank to the remarkable minimum 
of 96° 2' F. The Eskimos usually remained about half a degree warmer. 
The respiration and heart action was at this time fast and irregular. 

In the summer period of famine about Jones Sound the temperature 
was normal. At that time we had an abundance of water and an inter- 
esting occupation in quest of game, but we often felt the cold more 
severely than in the coldest season of winter. 






MILES AND MILES OF DESOLATION. 
HOMEWARD BOUND 

Copyright, 1909, "New York Herald Co.' 



THE RETURN 325 

time. And, although the stimulating incentive of reach- 
ing the Pole on going north was gone, now, having 
accomplished the feat, there was always the thought that 
unless I got home no one should ever learn of that super- 
human struggle, that final victory. 

Empty though it was, I had, as I had hoped, proved 
myself to myself; I had justified the three centuries of 
human effort : I had proven that finite human brain and 
palpitating muscle can be victorious over a cruel and 
death-dealing Nature. It was a testimony that it was 
my duty to give the world of struggling, striving men, 
and which, as a father, I hoped with pride to give to my 
little children. 




PTABMIGAN 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 

THE RETURN — DELUDED BY DRIFT AND FOG — CARRIED 

ASTRAY OVER AN UNSEEN DEEP TRAVEL FOR 

TWENTY DAYS IN A WORLD OF MISTS, WITH THE 

TERROR OF DEATH AWAKENED FROM SLEEP BY 

A HEAVENLY SONG THE FIRST BIRD — FOLLOWING 

THE WINGED HARBINGER — WE REACH LAND — A 
BLEAK, BARREN ISLAND POSSESSING THE CHARM OF 
PARADISE — AFTER DAYS VERGING ON STARVATION, WE 
ENJOY A FEAST OF UNCOOKED GAME. 

XXII 

Southward With the Ice Into the American 
Archipelago 

On May 24 the sky cleared long enough to permit 
me to take a set of observations. I found we were on 
the eighty-fourth parallel, near the ninety-seventh 
meridian. The new land I had noted on my northward 
journey was hidden by a low mist. The ice was much 
crevassed, and drifted eastward. Many open spaces 
of water were denoted in the west by patches of water 
sky. The pack was sufficiently active to give us con- 
siderable anxiety, although pressure lines and open 
water did not at the time seriously impede our progress. 

Scarcely enough food remained on the sledges tg 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 327 

reach our caches unless we should average fifteen miles 
a day. On the return from the Pole to this point we had 
been able to make only twelve miles daily. Now our 
strength, even under fair conditions, did not seem to be 
equal to more than ten miles. The outlook was threat- 
ening, and even dangerous, but the sight of the cleared 
sky gave new courage to E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah. 

Our best course was to get to Fridtjof Nansen 
Sound as soon as possible. The new land westward was 
invisible, and offered no food prospects. An attempted 
exploration might cause a fatal delay. 

Still depending upon a steady easterly drift of the 
pack, a course was set somewhat west of Svartevoeg, the 
northern point of Axel Heiberg Land. In pressing on- 
ward, light variable winds and thick fogs prevailed. 
The ice changed rapidly to smaller fields as we advanced. 
The temperature rose to zero, and the air really began 
to be warm. Our chronic shivering disappeared. With 
light sledges and endurable weather, we made fair prog- 
ress over the increasing pack irregularities. 

As we crossed the eighty-third parallel we found 
ourselves to the west of a large lead, extending slightly 
west of south. Immense quantities of broken and pul- 
verized ice lined the shores to a width of several miles. 
The irregularities of this surface and the uncemented 
break offered difficulties over which no force of man or 
beast could move a sledge or boat. Compelled to fol- 
low the line of least resistance, a southerly course was set 
along the ice division. The wind now changed and came 
from the east, but there was no relief from the heavy 
banks of fog that surrounded us. 

The following days were days of desperation. The 



828 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

food for man and dog was reduced, and the difficulties 
of ice travel increased dishearteningly. We traveled 
twenty days, not knowing our position. A gray mystery 
enshrouded us. Terror followed in our wake. Beneath 
us the sea moved — whither it was carrying us I did riot 
know. That we were ourselves journeying toward an 
illimitable, hopeless sea, where we should die of slow, 
lingering starvation, I knew was a dreadful probability. 
Every minute drew its pangs of despair and fear. 

The gray world of mist was silent. My compan- 
ions gazed at me with faces shriveled, thinned and hard- 
ened as those of mummies. Their anguish was unspeak- 
able. My own vocal powers seemed to have left me. 
Our dogs were still; with bowed heads, tails drooping, 
they pulled the sledges dispiritedly. We seemed like 
souls in torment, traveling in a world of the dead, con- 
demned to some Dantesque torture that should never 
cease. 

After the mental torment of threatened starvation, 
which prevented, despite the awful languor of my tor- 
tured limbs, any sleep; after heart-breaking marches 
and bitter hunger and unquenched thirst, the baffling 
mist that had shut us from all knowledge at last cleared 
away one morning. Our hearts bounded. I felt such 
relief as a man buried alive must feel when, after strug- 
gling in the stifling darkness, his grave is suddenly 
opened. Land loomed to the west and south of us. 

Yet we found we had been hardly dealt with by 
fate. Since leaving the eighty-fourth parallel, without 
noticeable movement, we had been carried astray by the 
ocean drift. We had moved with the entire mass that 
covered the Polar waters. I took observations. They 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 329 

gave latitude 79° 32', and longitude 101° 22'. At last 
I had discovered our whereabouts, and found that we 
were far from where we ought to be. But our situation 
was indeed nearly hopeless. The mere gaining a knowl- 
edge of where we actually were, however, fanned again 
the inextinguishable embers of hope. 

We were in Crown Prince Gustav Sea. To the 
east were the low mountains and high valleys of Axel 
Heiberg Land, along the farther side of which was our 
prearranged line of retreat, with liberal caches of good 
things and with big game everywhere. But we were 
effectually barred from all this. 

Between us and the land lay fifty miles of small 
crushed ice and impassable lines of open water. In hard- 
fought efforts to cross these we were repulsed many 
times. I knew that if by chance we should succeed in 
crossing, there would still remain an unknown course of 
eighty miles to the nearest cache, on the eastern coast of 
Axel Heiberg Land. 

We had no good reason to expect any kind of sub- 
sistence along the west coast of Axel Heiberg Land. 
We had been on three-fourths rations for three weeks, 
and there remained only half rations for another ten 
days. Entirely aside from the natural barriers in the 
way of returning eastward and northward, we were now 
utterly unequal to the task, for we had not the food to 
support us. 

The land to the south was nearer. Due south there 
was a wide gap which we took to be Hassel Sound. On 
each side there was a low ice-sheeted island, beyond the 
larger islands which Sverdrup had named Ellef Ringnes 
Land and Amund Ringnes Land. The ice southward 



330 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

was tolerably good and the drift was south-south-east. 

In the hope that some young seals might be seen 
we moved into Hassel Sound toward the eastern island. 
To satisfy our immediate pangs of hunger was our most 
important mission. 

The march on June 14 was easy, with a bright 
warm sun and a temperature but little under the freez- 
ing point. In a known position, on good ice, and with 
land rising before us, we were for a brief period happy 
and strong, even with empty stomachs. The horizon was 
eagerly sought for some color or form or movement to 
indicate life. We were far enough south to expect bears 
and seals, and expecting the usual luck of the hungry 
savage, we sought diligently. Our souls reached forth 
through our far-searching eyes. Our eyes pained with 
the intense fixity of gazing, yet no animate thing ap- 
peared. The world was vacant and dead. Our beating 
hearts, indeed, seemed to be the only palpitating things 
there. 

In the piercing rays of a high sun the tent was 
erected, and in it, after eating only four ounces of pem- 
mican and drinking two cups of icy water, we sought 
rest. The dogs, after a similar ration, but without 
water, fell into an easy sleep. I regarded the poor crea- 
tures with tenderness and pity. For more than a fort- 
night they had not uttered a sound to disturb the frigid 
silence. When a sled dog is silent and refuses to fight 
with his neighbor, his spirit is very low. Finally I fell 
asleep. 

At about six o'clock we were awakened by a strange 
sound. Our surprised eyes turned from side to side. 
Not a word was uttered. Another sound came — a series 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 331 

of soft, silvery notes — the song of a creature that might 
have come from heaven. I listened with rapture. I 
believed I was dreaming. The enchanting song con- 
tinued — I lay entranced. I could not believe this divine 
thing was of our real world until the pole of our tent 
gently quivered. Then, above us, I heard the flutter 
of wings. It was a bird — a snow bunting trilling its 
ethereal song — the first sound of life heard for many 
months. 

We were back to life! Tears of joy rolled down 
our emaciated faces. If I could tell you of the resurrec- 
tion of the soul which came with that first bird note, and 
the new interest which it gave in our subsequent life, I 
should feel myself capable of something superhuman in 
powers of expression. 

With the song of that marvelous bird a choking 
sense of homesickness came to all of us. We spoke no 
word. The longing for home gripped our hearts. 

We were hungry, but no thought of killing this 
little feathered creature came to us. It seemed as 
divine as the bird that came of old to Noah in the ark. 
Taking a few of our last bread crumbs, we went out to 
give it food. The little chirping thing danced joyously 
on the crisp snows, evidently as glad to see us as we 
were to behold it. I watched it with fascination. At 
last we were back to life ! We felt renewed vigor. And 
when the little bird finally rose into the air and flew 
homeward, our spirits rose, our eyes followed it, and, as 
though it were a token sent to us, we followed its winged 
course landward with eager, bounding hearts. 

We were now on immovable ice attached to the 
land. We directed our course uninterruptedly land- 



332 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ward, for there was no thought of further rest or sleep 
after the visit of the bird had so uplifted our hearts. Our 
chances of getting meat would have been bettered by- 
following close to the open water, but the ice there was 
such that no progress could be made. Furthermore, the 
temptation quickly to set foot on land was too great to 
resist. At the end of a hard march — the last few hours 
of which were through deep snows — we mounted the ice 
edge, and finally reached a little island — a bare spot of 
real land. When my foot touched it, my heart sank. 
We sat down, and the joy of the child in digging the 
sand of the seashore was ours. 

I wonder if ever such a bleak spot, in a desert of 
death, had so impressed men before as a perfect para- 
dise. In this barren heap of sand and clay, we were at 
last free of the danger, the desolation, the sterility of that 
soul-withering environment of a monotonously moving 
world of ice and eternal frost. 

We fastened the dogs to a rock, and pitched the tent 
on earth-soiled snows. In my joy I did not forget that 
the Pole was ours, but, at that time, I was ready to offer 
freely to others the future pleasures of its crystal en- 
vironment and all its glory. Our cup had been filled too 
often with its bitters and too seldom with its sweets for 
us to entertain further thirst for boreal conquest. 

And we also resolved to keep henceforth from the 
wastes of the terrible Polar sea. In the future the posi- 
tion of lands must govern our movements. For, along 
a line of rocks, although we might suffer from hunger, 
we should no longer be helpless chips on the ocean drift, 
and if no other life should be seen, at least occasional 
shrimps would gladden the heart. 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 333 

We stepped about on the solid ground with a new 
sense of security. But the land about was low, barren, 
and shapeless. Its formation was triassic, similar to that 
of most of Heiberg land, but in our immediate surround- 
ings, erosion by frost, the grind of ice sheets, and the 
power of winds, had leveled projecting rocks and 
eliffs. Part of its interior was blanketed with ice. 
Its shore line had neither the relief of a colored 
cliff nor a picturesque headland; there was not even a 
wall of ice; there were only dull, uninteresting slopes of 
sand and snow separating the frozen sea from the land- 
ice. The most careful scrutiny gave no indication of a 
living creature. The rocks were uncovered even with 
black lichens. A less inviting spot of earth could not be 
conceived, yet it aroused in us a deep sense of en- 
thusiasm. A strip of tropical splendor could not have 
done more. The spring of man's passion is sprung by 
contrast, not by degrees of glory. 

In camp, the joy of coming back to earth was 
chilled by the agonizing call of the stomach. The 
effervescent happiness could not dispel the pangs of 
hunger. A disabled dog which had been unsuccessfully 
nursed for several days was sacrificed on the altar of 
hard luck, and the other dogs were thereupon given a 
liberal feed, in which we shared. To our palates the 
flesh of the dog was not distasteful, yet the dog had 
been our companion for many months, and at the same 
time that our conscienceless stomachs were calling for 
more hot, blood- wet meat, a shivering sense of guilt came 
over me. We had killed and were eating a living crea- 
ture which had been faithful to us. 

We were hard-looking men at this time. Our fur 



334 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

garments were worn through at the elbows and at the 
knees. Ragged edges dangled in the winds. All the 
boot soles were mere films, like paper with many holes. 
Our stockings were in tatters. The bird-skin shirts had 
been fed to the dogs, and strips of our sleeping bags 
had day by day been added to the canine mess. It took 
all our spare time now to mend clothing. Dressed in 
rags, with ugly brown faces, seamed with many deep 
wind-fissures, we had reached, in our appearance, the 
extreme limit of degradation. 

At the Pole I had been thin, but now my skin was 
contracted over bones oifering only angular eminences 
as a bodily outline. The Eskimos were as thin as my- 
self. My face was as black as theirs. They had risen 
to higher mental levels, and I had descended to lower 
animal depths. The long strain, the hard experiences, 
had made us equals. We were, however, still in good 
health and were capable of considerable hard work. It 
was not alone the want of food which had shriveled our 
bodies, for greater pangs of hunger were reserved for a 
later run of misfortune. Up to this point persistent 
overwork had been the most potent factor. 

As we passed out of Hassel Sound, the ice drifted 
southward. Many new fractures were noted, and open 
spaces of water appeared. Here was seen the track of 
a rat — the first sign of a four-footed creature — and we 
stopped to examine the tiny marks with great interest. 
Next, some old bear tracks were detected. These simple 
things had an intense fascination for us, coming as we 
did out of a lifeless world ; and, too, these signs showed 
that the possibilities of food were at hand, and the 
thought sharpened our senses into savage fierceness. 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 335 

We continued our course southward, as we fol- 
lowed, wolf -like, in the bear footprints. The sledges 
bounded oyer the icy irregularities as they had not done 
for months. Every crack in the ice was searched for 
seals, and with the glasses we mounted hummock after 
hummock to search the horizon for bears. 

We were not more than ten miles beyond land 
when Ah-we-lah located an auspicious spot to leeward. 
After a peep through the glasses he shouted. The dogs 
understood. They raised their ears, and jumped to the 
full length of their traces. We hurried eastward to de- 
prive the bear of our scent, but we soon learned that he 
was as hungry as we were, for he made an air line for our 
changed position. We were hunting the bear — the 
bear was also hunting us. 

Getting behind a hummock, we awaited develop- 
ments. Bruin persistently neared, rising on his 
haunches frequently so as the better to see E-tuk-i- 
shook, who had arranged himself like a seal as a decoy. 
When within a few hundred yards the dogs were freed. 
They had been waiting like entrenched soldiers for a 
chance to advance. In a few moments the gaunt crea- 
tures encircled the puzzled bear. Almost without a 
sound, they leaped at the great animal and sank their 
fangs into his hind legs. Ah-we-lah fired. The bear 
fell. 

Gamp technique and the advantages of a fire were 
not considered — the meat was swallowed raw, with 
wolfish haste, and no cut of carefully roasted bullock 
ever tasted better. It was to such grim hunger that we 
had come. 

Then we slept, and after a long time our eyes re- 



336 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

opened upon a world colored with new hope. The im- 
mediate threat of famine was removed, and a day was 
given over to filling up with food. Even after that, a 
liberal supply of fresh meat rested on the sledge for 
successive days of feasting. In the days which followed, 
other bears, intent on examining our larder, came near 
enough at times to enable us to keep up a liberal supply 
of fresh meat. 

With the assurance of a food supply, a course was 
set to enter Wellington Channel and push along to 
Lancaster Sound, where I hoped a Scottish whaler could 
be reached in July or August. In this way it seemed 
possible to reach home shores during the current year. 
If we should try to reach Annoatok I realized we should 
in all probability be compelled to winter at Cape Sabine. 
The ice to the eastward in Norwegian Bay offered dif- 
ficulties like those of Crown Prince Gustav Sea, and 
altogether the easterly return to our base did not at this 
time seem encouraging. The air-line distance to Smith 
Sound and that to Lancaster Sound were about the 
same, with the tremendous advantage of a straight 
course — a direct drift — and fairly smooth ice to the 
southward. 

This conclusion to push forward for Lancaster 
Sound was reached on June 19. We were to the west 
of North Cornwall Island, but a persistent local fog 
gave only an occasional view of its icy upper slopes. The 
west was clear, and King Christian Land appeared as 
a low line of blue. About us the ice was small but free 
of pressure troubles. Bear tracks were frequently seen as 
we went along. The sea was bright. The air was delight- 
fully warm, with the thermometer at 10° above zero. 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 337 

At every stop, the panting dogs tumbled and rolled 
playfully on the snows, and pushed their heated muzzles 
deep into the white chill. If given time they would 
quickly arrange a comfortable bed and stretch out, seem- 
ingly lifeless, for a refreshing slumber. At the awak- 
ening call of the lash, all were ready with a quick jump 
and a daring snarl, but the need of a tight trace re- 
moved their newly-acquired fighting propensity. They 
had gained strength and spirit with remarkable rapidity. 
Only two days before, they stumbled along with irregu- 
lar step, slack traces, and lowered tails, but the fill of 
juicy bear's meat raised their bushy appendages to a 
coil of pride — an advantage which counted for several 
miles in a day's travel. 

The drift carried us into Penny Strait, midway be- 
tween Bathurst Land and Grinnell Peninsula. The 
small islands along both shores tore up the ice and piled 
it in huge uplifts. There was a tremendous pressure as 
the floes were forced through narrow gorges. Only a 
middle course was possible for us, with but a few miles' 
travel to our credit for each day. But the southerly 
movement of the groaning ice was rapid. A persistent 
fog veiled the main coast on both sides, but off-lying 
islands were seen and recognized often enough to note 
the positions. At Dundas Island the drift was stopped, 
and we sought the shores of Grinnell Peninsula. Ad- 
vancing eastward, close to land, the ice proved extremely 
difficult. The weather, however, was delightful. Be- 
tween snowdrifts, purple and violet flowers rose over 
warm beds of newly invigorated mosses — the first 
flowers that we had seen for a long and weary time, and 
the sight of them, with their blossoms and color, deeply 



838 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

thrilled me. From misty heights came the howl of the 
white wolf. Everywhere were seen the traces of the fox 
and the lemming. The eider-duck and the ivory gull 
had entered our horizon. 

All nature smiled with the cheer of midsummer. 
Here was an inspiring fairyland for which our hearts 
had long yearned. In it there was music which the 
long stiffened tympanums were slow in catching. The 
land was an oasis of hardy verdure. The sea was a 
shifting scene of frost and blue glitter. With the soul 
freed from its icy fetters, the soft, sunny airs came in 
bounds of gladness. In dreamy stillness we sought the 
bosom of the frozen sea, and there heard the groan of 
the pack which told of home shores. Drops of water 
from melting snows put an end to thrist tortures. The 
blow of the whales and the seals promised a luxury of 
fire and fuel, while the low notes of the ducks prepared 
the palate for dessert. 

As we neared a little moss-covered island in drift- 
ing southward, we saw the interesting chick footprints 
of ptarmigan in the snow. The dogs pointed their ears 
and raised their noses, and we searched the clearing skies 
with eye and ear for the sudden swoop of the boreal 
chicken. I had developed a taste for this delicate fowl 
as desperate as that of the darky for chicken, and 
my conscience was sufficiently deadened by cold and 
hunger to break into a roost by night or day to steal 
anything that offered feathery delights for the palate. 

I was courting gastric desire, but the ptarmigan 
was engaged in another kind of courtship. Two singing 
capons were cooing notes of love to a shy chick, and they 
suddenly decided that there was not room for two, 



BACK TO LIFE AND BACK TO LAND 339 

whereupon a battle ensued with a storm of wings and 
much darting of bills. In this excitement they got into 
an ice crevasse, where they might have become easy vic- 
tims without the use of ammunition. But, with empty 
stomachs, there is also at times a heart-hunger, which 
pleases a higher sense and closes the eye to gastric wants. 

Later in the same day, we saw at a great distance 
what seemed like two men in motion. We hastened to 
meet them with social anticipations. Now they seemed 
tall — now mere dots on the horizon. I thought this due 
to their movement over ice irregularities. But boreal 
optics play havoc with the eye and the sense of per- 
spective. As we rose suddenly on a hummock, where 
we had a clearer view, the objects rose on wings ! They 
were ravens which had been enlarged and reduced by 
reflecting and refracting surfaces and a changing atmos- 
phere, in much the same manner as a curved mirror 
makes a caricature of one's self. I laughed — bitterly. 
Dazed, bewildered, there was nevertheless for me a joy 
in seeing these living creatures, denizens of the land 
toward which we were directed. 

The bears no longer sought our camp, but the seals 
were conveniently scattered along our track. A kindly 
world had spread our waistbands to fairly normal dimen- 
sions. The palate began to exercise its discriminating 
force. Ducks and land animals were sought with 
greater eagerness. While in this mood, three white 
caribou were secured. They were beautiful creatures, 
and as pleasing to the palate as to the eye, but owing to 
the very rough ice it was quite impossible to carry more 
than a few days' supply. Usually we took only the 
choice parts of the game, but every eatable morsel of 



340 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



caribou that we could carry was packed on the sledges. 
With this wealth of food and fuel we moved along 
the shores of Wellington Channel to Pioneer Bay. We 
felt that we were steadily on our way homeward. There 
was no premonition of the keen disappointment that 
awaited us, of the inevitable imprisonment for the long 
Arctic winter and the days of starvation that were to 
come. 




-n^X 



PTARMIGAN CHICKS 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 

HOURS OF ICY TORTURE A FRIGID SUMMER STORM IN 

THE BERG-DRIVEN ARCTIC SEA A PERILOUS DASH 

THROUGH TWISTING LANES OF OPENING WATER IN A 
CANVAS CANOE THE DRIVE OF HUNGER. 

XXIII 

Adrift on an Iceberg 

As we neared Pioneer Bay, along the coast of 
North Devon, it became quite evident that farther ad- 
vance by sledge was quite impossible. A persistent 
southerly wind had packed the channel with a jam of 
small ice, over which the effort of sledging was a hope- 
less task. The season was too far advanced to offer the 
advantage of an ice-foot on the shore line. There was 
no open water, nor any game to supply our larder. The 
caribou was mostly used. We began to feel the crav- 
ing pain of short rations. 

Although the distance to Lancaster Sound was 
short, land travel was impossible, and, with no food, we 
could not await the drift of the ice. The uncertainty 
of game was serious, with nothing as a reserve to await 
the dubious coming of a ship. If game should appear, 
we might remain on the ice, accumulating in the mean- 
time a supply of meat for travel by canvas boat later. 



342 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

This boat had been our hope in moving south, but 
thus far had not been of service. Forced to subsist 
mainly on birds, the ammunition rapidly diminished, and 
something had to be done at once to prevent famine. 

We might have returned to the game haunts of 
Grinnell Peninsula, but it seemed more prudent to cross 
the land to Jones Sound. Here, from Sverdrup's ex- 
perience, we had reason to expect abundant game. By 
moving eastward there would be afforded the alterna- 
tive of pushing northward if we failed to get to the 
whalers. The temperature now remained steadily near 
the freezing point, and with the first days of July the 
barometer became unsteady. 

On the 4th of July we began the climb of the high- 
lands of North Devon, winding about Devonian cliffs 
toward the land of promise beyond. The morning was 
gray, as it had been for several days, but before noon 
black clouds swept the snowy heights and poured icy 
waters over us. We were saturated to the skin, and 
shivered in the chill of the high altitude. Soon after- 
wards a light breath-taking wind from the northwest 
froze our pasty furs into sheets of ice. Still later, a 
heavy fall of snow compelled us to camp. The snow- 
storm continued for two days, and held us in a snow- 
buried tent, with little food and no fuel. 

Although the storm occasioned a good deal of suf- 
fering, it also brought some advantages. The land had 
been imperfectly covered with snow, and we had been 
forced to drive from bank to bank, over bared ground, 
to find a workable course. But now all was well sheeted 
with crusted snow. Soon the gaunt, dun-colored cliffs of 
North Devon ended the monotony of interior snows, 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 343 

and beyond was seen the cheering blue of Jones Sound. 

Much open water extended along the north shore 
to beyond Musk Ox Fiord. The southern shores 
were walled with pack-ice for a hundred miles or 
more. In bright, cold weather we made a descent to 
Eidsbotn on July 7th. Here a diligent search for food 
failed. Daily the howl of wolves and the cry of birds 
came as a response to our calling stomachs. A scant 
supply of ducks was secured for the men with an expen- 
diture of some of the last rifle ammunition, but no wal- 
ruses, no seals, and no other big game were seen. To 
secure dog food seemed quite hopeless. 

We now had the saddest incident of a long run of 
trouble. Open water ran the range of vision, sledges 
were no longer possible, game was scarce, our ammuni- 
tion was nearly exhausted. Our future fate had to be 
worked out in a canvas boat. What were we to do with 
the faithful dog survivors ? In the little boat they could 
not go with us. We could not stay with them and live. 
We must part. Two had already left us to join their 
wolf progenitors. We gave the others the same liberty. 
One sledge was cut off and put into the canvas boat 
which we had carried to the Pole and back. Our sleep- 
ing-bags and old winter clothing were given as food to 
the dogs. All else was snugly packed in waterproof 
packages as well as possible, and placed in the boat. 
With sad eyes, we left the shore. The dogs howled like 
crying children; we still heard them when five miles off 
shore. 

Off Cape Vera there was open water, and beyond, 
as far eastward as we could see, its quivering surface 
offered a restful prospect. As we advanced, however, 



344 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the weather proved treacherous, and the seas rose with 
sudden and disagreeable thumps. 

At times we camped on ice islands in the pack, but 
the pack-ice soon became too insecure, being composed 
of small pieces, and weakened in spots by the sun. Even 
a moderate gale would tear a pack apart, to be broken 
into smaller fragments by the water. Sometimes we 
made camp in the boat, with a box for a pillow and a 
piece of bear skin for a cover. 

With great anxiety we pulled to reach the land at 
Cape Sparbo before a storm entrapped us. To the 
north, the water was free of ice as far as the shores of 
Ellesmere Land, forty miles away. To avoid the glare 
of the midday sun, we chose to travel by night, but we 
were nearing the end of the season of Arctic double- 
days and midnight suns, when the winds come suddenly 
and often. 

Soon after midnight the wind from the Pacific 
came in short puffs, with periods of calm so sudden that 
we looked about each time for something to happen. At 
about the same time there came long swells from the 
northwest. We scented a storm, although at that time 
there were no other signs. The ice was examined for a 
possible line of retreat to the land, but, with pressure 
ridges, hummocks and breaks, I knew this was impossi- 
ble. It was equally hopeless to camp on such treacher- 
ous ice. Berg ice had been passed the day before, but 
this was about as far behind as the land was ahead. 

So we pulled along desperately, while the swells 
shortened and rose. The atmosphere became thick and 
steel gray. The cliffs of Ellesmere Land faded, while 
lively clouds tumbled from the highlands to the sea. 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 345 

We were left no alternative but to seek the shelter 
of the disrupted pack, and press landward as best we 
could. We had hardly landed on the ice, and drawn 
our boat after us, when the wind struck us with such 
force that we could hardly stand against it. The ice 
immediately started in a westward direction, veering off 
from the land a little and leaving open leads. These 
leads, we now saw, were the only possible places of 
safety. For, in them, the waters were easy, and the 
wind was slightly shut off by the walls of pressure lines 
and hummocks. Furthermore, they offered slants now 
and then by which we could approach the land. 

The sledge was set under the boat and lashed. All 
our things were lashed to the wooden frame of the canoe 
to prevent the wind and the sea from carrying them 
away. We crossed several small floes and jumped the 
lines of water separating them, pulling sledge and canoe 
after us. The pressure lines offered severe barriers. 
To cross them we were compelled to separate the canoe 
from its sledge and remove the baggage. All of this 
required considerable time. A sense of hopelessness 
filled my heart. In the meantime, the wind veered 
to the east and came with a rush that left us helpless. 
We sought the lee of a hummock, and hoped the violence 
of the storm would soon spend itself, but there were no, 
easy spells in this storm, nor did it show signs of early 
cessation. The ice about us moved rapidly westward 
and slowly seaward. 

It was no longer possible to press toward the land, 
for the leads of water were too wide and were lined with 
small whitecaps, while the tossing seas hurled mountains 
of ice and foaming water over the pack edge. 



346 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The entire pack was rising and falling under faint 
swells, and gradually wearing to little fragments. The 
floe on which we stood was strong. I knew it would 
hold out longer than most of the ice about, but it was 
not high enough above water to give us a dry footing as 
the seas advanced. 

From a distance to the windward we noted a low 
iceberg slowly gaining on our floe. It was a welcome 
sight, for it alone could raise us high enough above the 
soul-despairing rush of the icy water. 

Its rich ultramarine blue promised ice of a sufficient 
strength to withstand the battling of the storm. Never 
were men on a sinking ship more anxious to reach a 
rock than we were to reach this blue stage of ice. It 
offered several little shelves, upon which we could rise 
out of the water upon the ice. We watched with 
anxious eyes as the berg revolved and forced the other 
ice aside. 

It aimed almost directly for us, and would prob- 
ably cut our floe.. We prepared for a quick leap upon 
the deck of our prospective craft. 

Bearing down upon us it touched a neighboring 
piece and pushed us away. We quickly pulled to the 
other pan, and then found, to our dismay, a wide band 
of mushy slush, as impossible to us for a footing as 
quicksand would have been. As the berg passed, how- 
ever, it left a line of water behind it. We quickly threw 
boat and sledge into this, paddled after the berg, and, 
reaching it, leaped to its security, What a relief to be 
raised above the crumbling pack-ice and to watch from 
safety the thundering of the elements! 

The berg which we had boarded was square, with 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 347 

rounded corners. Its highest points were about twenty 
feet above water; the general level was about ten feet. 
The ice was about eighty feet thick, and its width was 
about a hundred feet. These dimensions assured sta- 
bility, for if the thing had turned over, as bergs fre- 
quently do, we should be left to seek breath among the 
whales. 

It was an old remnant of a much larger berg which 
had stood the Arctic tempest for many years. This we 
figured out from the hard blue of the ice and its many 
caverns and pinnacles. We were, therefore, on a se- 
cure mass of crystal which was not likely to suffer 
severely from a single storm. Its upper configuration, 
however, though beautiful in its countless shades of blue, 
did not offer a comfortable berth. There were three 
pinnacles too slippery and too steep to climb, with a 
slope leading by a gradual incline on each side. Along 
these the seas had worn grooves leading to a central 
concavity filled with water. The only space which we 
could occupy was the crater-like rim around this lake. 
At this time we had to endure only the seething pitch of 
the sea and the cutting blast of the storm. 

The small ice about kept the seas from boarding. 
To prevent our being thrown about on the slippery sur- 
face, we cut holes into the pinnacles and spread lines 
about them, to which we clung. The boat was securely 
fastened in a similar way by cutting a makeshift for a 
ringbolt in the floor of ice. Then we pushed from side 
to side along the lines, to encourage our hearts and to 
force our circulation. Although the temperature was 
only at the freezing point, it was bitterly cold, and we 
were in a bad way to weather a storm, 



348 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The sea had drenched us from head to foot. Only 
our shirts were dry. With hands tightly gripped to the 
line and to crevasses, we received the spray of the break- 
ing icy seas while the berg ploughed the scattered pack 
and plunged seaward. The cold, though only at the 
freezing point, pierced our snow-pasted furs and 
brought shivers worse than that of zero's lowest. Thus 
the hours of physical torture and mental anguish passed, 
while the berg moved towards the gloomy black cliff of 
Hell Gate. Here the eastern sky bleached and the 
south blued, but the falling temperature froze our gar- 
ments to coats of mail. We were still dressed in part 
of our winter garments. 

The coat was of sealskin, with hood attached; the 
shirt of camel's hair blanket, also with a hood ; the trou- 
sers of bear fur; boots of seal, with hair removed, and 
stockings of hare fur. The mittens were of seal, and 
there were pads of grass for the palms and soles. Our 
garments, though not waterproof, shed water and ex- 
cluded the winds, but there is a cold that comes with wet 
garments and strong winds that sets the teeth to chat- 
tering and the skin to quivering. 

As all was snug and secure on the berg, we began to 
take a greater interest in our wind and sea-propelled 
craft. Its exposed surface was swept by the winds, 
while its submarine surface was pushed by tides and 
undercurrents, giving it a complex movement at vari- 
ance with the pack-ice. It ploughed up miles of sea-ice, 
crushing and throwing it aside. 

After several hours of this kind of navigation — 
which was easy for us, because the movement of the 
swell and the breaking of the sea did not inflict a hard- 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 349 

ship — the berg suddenly, without any apparent reason, 
took a course at right angles to the wind, and delib- 
erately pushed out of the pack into the seething seas. 
This rapid shift from comfort to the wild agitation of 
the black waters made us gasp. The seas, with boulders 
of ice, rolled up over our crest and into the concavity of 
the berg, leaving no part safe. Seizing our axes, we 
cut many other anchor holes in the ice, doubly secured 
our life lines, and shifted with our boat to the edge of 
the berg turned to the wind. The hours of suspense 
and torment thus spent seemed as long as the winters of 
the Eskimo. The pack soon became a mere pearly glow 
against a dirty sky. We were rushing through a seeth- 
ing blackness, made more impressive by the pearl and 
blue of the berg and the white, ice-lined crests. 

What could we do to keep the springs of life from 
snapping in such a world of despair? Fortunately, we 
were kept too busy dodging the storm-driven missiles of 
water and ice to ponder much over our fate. Other- 
wise the mind could not have stood the infernal strain. 

Our bronze skins were adapted to cold and winds, 
but the torture of the cold, drenching water was new. 
For five months we had been battered by winds and cut 
by frosts, but water was secured only by melting ice with 
precious fuel which we had carried thousands of miles. 
If we could get enough of the costly liquid to wash our 
cold meals down, we had been satisfied. The luxury of 
a face wash or a bath, except by the wind-driven snows, 
was never indulged in. Now, in stress of danger, we 
were getting it from every direction. The torments of 
frost about the Pole were nothing compared to this boil- 
ing blackness, 



350 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Twenty-four hours elapsed before there was any 
change. Such calls of nature as hunger or thirst or 
sleep were left unanswered. We maintained a terrific 
struggle to keep from being washed into the sea. At 
last the east paled, the south became blue, and the land 
on both sides rose in sight. The wind came steadily, but 
reduced in force, with a frosty edge that hardened our 
garments to sheets of ice. 

We were not far from the twin channels, Cardigan 
Strait and Hell Gate, where the waters of the Pacific 
and Atlantic meet. We were driving for Cardigan 
Strait, past the fiords into which we had descended from 
the western seas two weeks before. We had, therefore, 
lost an advance of two weeks in one day, and we had 
probably lost our race with time to reach the life-saving 
haunts of the Eskimo. 

Still, this line of thought was foreign to us. Not 
far away were bold cliffs from which birds descended to 
the rushing waters. At the sight my heart rose. Here 
we saw the satisfying prospect of an easy breakfast if 
only the waves would cease to fold in white crests. 
Long trains of heavy ice were rushing with railroad 
speed out of the straits. As we watched, the tempera- 
ture continued to fall. Soon the north blackened with 
swirling curls of smoke. The wind came with the sound 
of exploding guns from Hell Gate. What, I asked 
myself, was to be our fate now? 

We took a southwest course. Freezing seas washed 
over the berg and froze our numbed feet to the ice, upon 
which a footing otherwise would have been very difficult. 
Adrift in a vast, ice-driven, storm-thundering ocean, I 
stood silent, paralyzed with terror. After a few hours. 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 351 

sentinel floes of the pack slowly shoved toward us, and 
unresistingly, we were ushered into the harboring influ- 
ence of the heavy Polar ice. 

The berg lost its erratic movement, and soon settled 
in a fixed position. The wind continued to tear along in 
a mad rage, but we found shelter in our canoe, dozing 
away for a few moments while one paced the ice as a 
sentinel. Slowly a lane of quiet water appeared among 
the floes. We heard a strangely familiar sound which 
set our hearts throbbing. The walrus and the seal, one 
by one, came up to the surface to blow. Here, right be- 
fore us, was big game, with plenty of meat and fat. We 
were starving, but we gazed almost helplessly on 
plenty, for its capture was difficult for us. 

We had only a few cartridges and four cans of pem- 
mican in our baggage. These were reserved for use to 
satisfy the last pangs of famine. That time had not yet 
arrived. Made desperate by hunger, after a brief rest 
we began to seek food. Birds flying from the land be- 
came our game at this time. We could secure these with 
the slingshot made by the Eskimos, and later, by en- 
tangling loops in lines, and in various other ways which 
hunger taught us. 

A gull lighted on a pinnacle of our berg. Quietly 
but quickly we placed a bait and set a looped line. We 
watched with bated breath. The bird peered about, 
espied the luring bait, descended with a flutter of wings, 
pecked the pemmican. There was a snapping sound — 
the bird was ours. Leaping upon it, we rapidly cut it 
in bits and ravenously devoured it raw. Few things I 
have ever eaten tasted so delicious as this meat, which 
had the flavor of cod-liver oil. 



352 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The ice soon jammed in a grinding pack against 
the land, and the wind spent its force in vain. We held 
our position, and two of us, after eating the bird, slept 
until the sentinel called us. At midnight the wind eased 
and the ice started its usual rebound, seaward and east- 
ward, with the tide. 

This was our moment for escape. We were about 
ten miles off the shore of Cape Vera. If we could push 
our canvas canoe through the channels of water as they 
opened, we might reach land. We quickly prepared the 
boat. With trepidation we pushed it into the black, 
frigid waters. We hesitated to leave the sheltering berg 
which had saved our lives. Still, it had served its pur- 
pose. To remain might mean our being carried out to 
sea. The ultimate time had come to seek a more secure 
refuge on terra firma. 

Leaping into the frail, rocking canoe, we pushed 
along desperately through a few long channels to reach 
a wide, open space of water landward. Paddling fran- 
tically, we made a twisting course through opening lanes 
of water, ice on both sides of us, visible bergs bearing 
down at times on us, invisible bergs with spear-points of 
ice beneath the water in which our course lay. We sped 
forward at times with quick darts. Suddenly, and to 
our horror, an invisible piece of ice jagged a hole in the 
port quarter. Water gushed into the frail craft. In a 
few minutes it would be filled; we should sink to an icy 
death! Fortunately, I saw a floe was near, and wLile 
the canoe rapidly filled we pushed for the floe, reaching 
it not a moment too soon. 

A boot was sacrificed to mend the canoe. Patching 
the cut, we put again into the sea and proceeded. 



OVERLAND TO JONES SOUND 853 

The middle pack of ice was separated from the land 
pack, leaving much free water. But now a land breeze 
sprang up and gave us new troubles. We could not 
face the wind and sea, so we took a slant and sought the 
lee of the pans coming from the land. 

Our little overloaded canoe weathered the seas very 
well, and we had nothing to gain and everything to lose 
by turning back. Again we were drenched with spray, 
and the canoe was sheeted with ice above water. The 
sun was passing over Hell Gate. Long blue shadows 
stretched over the pearl-gray sea. By these, without 
resort to the compass, we knew it was about midnight. 

As we neared the land-ice, birds became numerous. 
The waters rose in easy swells. Still nearer, we noted 
that the entire body of land-ice was drifting away. A 
convenient channel opened and gave us a chance to slip 
behind. We pointed for Cape Vera, dashed over the 
water, and soon, to our joy, landed on a ledge of lower 
rocks. I cannot describe the relief I felt in reaching 
land after the spells of anguish through which we had 
passed. Although these barren rocks offered neither 
food nor shelter, still we were as happy as if a sentence 
of death had been remitted. 

Not far away were pools of ice water. These we 
sought first, to quench our thirst. Then we scattered 
about, our eyes eagerly scrutinizing the land for break-- 
fast. Soon we saw a hare bounding over the rocks. As 
it paused, cocking its ears, one of my boys secured it with 
a sling-shot. It was succulent; we cut it with our 
knives. Some moss was found among the rocks. This 
was a breakfast for a king. I returned to prepare it. 
With the moss as fuel, we made a fire, put the dripping 



854 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



meat in a pot, and, with gloating eyes, watched it sim- 
mering. I thrilled with the joy of sheer living, with 
hunger about to be satisfied by cooked food. 

Before the hare was ready the boys came along with 
two eider-ducks, which they had secured by looped lines. 
We therefore had now an advance dinner, with a re- 
freshing drink and a stomach full, and solid rocks to 
place our heads upon for a long sleep. These solid 
rocks were more delightful and secure than pillows of 
down. The world had indeed a new aspect for us. In 
reality, however, our ultimate prospect of escape from 
famine was darker than ever. 




AECTIC HAEE 



UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE 

BY BOAT AND SLEDGE, OVER THE DRIFTING ICE AND STORMY 

SEAS OF JONES SOUND FROM ROCK TO ROCK IN 

QUEST OF FOOD MAKING NEW WEAPONS 

XXIV 

Imprisoned by the Hand of Frost 

No time was lost in our onward course. Endeavor- 
ing at once to regain the distance lost by the drifting 
berg, we sought a way along the shores. Here, over ice 
with pools of water and slush, we dragged our sledge 
with the canvas boat ever ready to launch. Frequent 
spaces of water necessitated constant ferrying. We 
found, however, that most open places could be crossed 
with sledge attached to the boat. This saved much time. 

We advanced from ten to fifteen miles daily, pitch- 
ing the tent on land or sleeping in the boat in pools of 
ice water, as the conditions warranted. The land rose 
with vertical cliffs two thousand feet high, and offered 
no life except a few gulls and guillemots. By gather- 
ing these as we went along, a scant hand-to-mouth sub- 
sistence daily was obtained. 

Early in August we reached the end of the land- 
pack, about twenty-five miles east of Cape Sparbo. Be- 
yond was a water sky, and to the north the sea was 



356 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

entirely free of ice. The weather was clear, and our 
ambitions for the freedom of the deep rose again. 

At the end of the last day of sledge travel, a camp 
was made on a small island. Here we saw the first 
signs of Eskimo habitation. Old tent circles, also stone 
and fox traps in abundance, indicated an ancient village 
of considerable size. On the mainland we discovered 
abundant grass and moss, with signs of musk ox, ptar- 
migan, and hare, but no living thing was detected. 
After a careful search, the sledge was taken apart to 
serve as a floor for the boat. All our things were snugly 
packed. For breakfast, we had but one gull, which was 
divided without the tedious process of cooking. 

As we were packing the things onto the edge of the 
ice, we espied an oogzuk seal. Here was a creature 
which could satisfy for a while our many needs. Upon 
it one of our last cartridges was expended. The seal 
fell. The huge carcass was dragged ashore. All of its 
skin was jealously taken. For this would make harpoon 
lines which would enable the shaping of Eskimo imple- 
ments, to take the place of the rifles, which, with ammu- 
nition exhausted, would be useless. Our boots could 
also be patched with bits of the skin, and new soles 
could be made. Of the immense amount of oogzuk meat 
and blubber we were able to take only a small part; for, 
with three men and our baggage and sledge in the little 
canvas boat, it was already overloaded. 

The meat was cached, so that if ultimate want 
forced our retreat we might here prolong our existence 
a few weeks longer. There was little wind, and the 
night was beautifully clear. The sun at night was very 
close to the horizon, but the sparkle of the shimmering 





E-TUK-I-SHOOK WAITING FOR A SEAL AT A BLOW-HOLE 



UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE 357 

waters gave our dreary lives a bright side. On the 
great unpolished rocks of the point east of Cape Sparbo 
a suitable camping spot was found, a prolonged feed of 
seal was indulged in, and with a warm sun and full 
stomachs, the tent was unnecessary. Under one of the 
rocks we found shelter, and slept with savage delight 
for nine hours. 

Another search of the accessible land offered no 
game except ducks and gulls far from shore. Here the 
tides and currents were very strong, so our start had to 
be timed with the outgoing tide. 

Starting late one afternoon, we advanced rapidly 
beyond Cape Sparbo, in a sea with an uncomfortable 
swell. But beyond the Cape, the land-ice still offered 
an edge for a long distance. In making a cut across a 
small bay to reach ice, a walrus suddenly came up be- 
hind the canoe and drove a tusk through the canvas. 
E-tuk-i-shook quickly covered the cut, while we pulled 
with full force for a pan of drift-ice only a few yards 
away. The boat, with its load, was quickly jerked on 
the ice. Already there were three inches of water in 
the floor. A chilly disaster was narrowly averted. Part 
of a boot was sacrificed to mend the boat. 

While at work with the needle, a strong tidal cur- 
rent carried us out to sea. An increasing wind brought 
breaking waves over the edge of the ice. The wind for- 
tunately gave a landward push to the ice. A sledge- 
cover, used as a sail, retarded our seaward drift. The 
leak securely patched, we pushed off for the land ice. 
With our eyes strained for breaking seas, the boat was 
paddled along with considerable anxiety. Much water 
was shipped in these dashes ; constant bailing was neces- 



358 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

sary. Pulling continuously along the ice for eight miles, 
and when the leads closed at times, jumping on cakes 
and pulling the boat after us, we were finally forced to 
seek a shelter on the ice-field. 

With a strong wind and a wet fall of snow, the ice- 
camp was far from comfortable. As the tide changed, 
the wind came from the west with a heavy, choppy sea. 
Further advance was impossible. Sleeping but a few 
minutes at a time, and then rising to note coming dan- 
gers, as does the seal, I perceived, to my growing dis- 
may, a separation between the land and the sea ice. We 
were going rapidly adrift, with only interrupted spots 
of sea-ice on the horizon ! 

There were a good many reefs about, which quickly 
broke the ice, and new leads formed on every side. The 
boat was pushed landward. We pulled the boat on the 
ice when the leads closed, lowering it again as the cracks 
opened. By carrying the boat and its load from crack 
to crack, we at last reached the land waters, in which we 
were able to advance about five miles further, camping 
on the gravel of the first river which we had seen. Here 
we were storm-bound for two days. 

There were several pools near by. Within a short 
distance from these were many ducks. With the sling- 
shot a few of these were secured. In the midst of our 
trouble, with good appetites, we were feeding up for 
future contests of strength. 

With a shore clear of ice, we could afford to take 
some chance with heavy seas, so before the swell sub- 
sided, we pushed off. Coming out of Braebugten Bay, 
with its discharging glaciers and many reefs, the water 
dashed against the perpendicular walls of ice, and pre- 



UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE 359 

sented a disheartening prospect. These reefs could be 
passed over only when the sea was calm. With but a 
half-day's run to our credit, we were again stopped. 

As we neared our objective point, on the fast ice 
inside of a reef, we were greeted with the glad sight of 
what we supposed to be a herd of musk ox. About 
three miles of the winter ice was still fast to the land. 
Upon this we landed, cleared the canvas boat, and pre- 
pared to camp in it. I remained to guard our few be- 
longings, while the two Eskimo boys rushed over the ice 
to try to secure the musk ox with the lance. It was a 
critical time in our career, for we were putting to test 
new methods of hunting, which we had partly devised 
after many hungry days of preparation. 

I followed the boys with the glasses as they jumped 
the ice crevasses and moved over the mainland with the 
stealth and ease of hungry wolves. It was a beautiful 
day. The sun was low in the northwest, throwing beams 
of golden light that made the ice a scene of joy. The 
great cliffs of North Devon, fifteen miles away, seemed 
very near through the clear air. Although enjoying the 
scene, I noted in the shadow of an iceberg a suspicious 
blue spot, which moved in my direction. As it advanced 
in the sunlight it changed from blue to a cream color. 
Then I made it out to be a Polar bear which we had 
attacked forty-eight hours previous. 

The sight aroused a feeling of elation. Gradually, 
as bruin advanced and I began to think of some method 
of defense, a cold shiver ran up my spine. The dog and 
rifle, with which we had met the bear before, were 
absent. To run, and leave our last bit of food and fuel, 
would have been as dangerous as to stay. A Polar bear 



360 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

will always attack a retreating creature, while it ap- 
proaches very cautiously one that holds its position. 
Furthermore, for some reason, the bears always bore a 
grudge against the boat. None ever passed it without 
testing the material with its teeth or giving it a slap with 
its paw. At this critical stage of our adventure the boat 
was linked more closely to our destiny than the clothes 
we wore. I therefore decided to stay and play the role 
of the aggressor, although I had nothing — not even a 
lance — with which to fight. 

Then an idea flashed through my mind. I lashed a 
knife to the steering paddle, and placed the boat on a 
slight elevation of ice, so as to make it and myself 
appear as formidable as possible. Then I gathered 
about me all the bits of wood, pieces of ice, and every- 
thing which I could throw at the creature before it came 
to a close contest, reserving the knife and the ice-ax as 
my last resort. When all was ready, I took my position 
beside the boat and displayed a sledge-runner moving 
rapidly to and fro. 

The bear was then about two hundred yards away. 
It approached stealthily behind a line of hummocks, 
with only its head occasionally visible. As it came to 
within three hundred feet, it rose frequently on its hind 
feet, dropped its forepaws, stretched its neck, and 
pushed its head up, remaining motionless for several 
seconds. It then appeared huge and beautiful. 

As it came still nearer, its pace quickened. I began 
to hurl my missiles. Every time the bear was hit, it 
stopped, turned about, and examined the object. But 
none of them proving palatable, it advanced to the oppo- 
site side of the boat, and for a moment stood and eyed 



UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE 361 

me. Its nose caught the odor of a piece of oogzuk 
blubber a few feet beyond. I raised the sledge-runner 
and brought it down with desperate force on the brute's 
nose. It grunted, but quickly turned to retreat. I fol- 
lowed until it was well on the run. 

Every time it turned to review the situation, I made 
a show of chasing it. This always had the desired effect 
of hastening its departure. It moved off, however, only 
a short distance, and then sat down, sniffed the air, and 
watched my movements. As I turned to observe the 
boys' doings, I saw them only a short distance away, 
edging upon the bear. Their group of musk oxen had 
proved to be rocks, and they had early noted my troubles 
and were hastening to enter the battle, creeping up be- 
hind hummocks and pressure ridges. They got to 
within a few yards of the brute, and then delivered their 
two lances at once, with lines attached. The bear 
dropped, but quickly recovered and ran for the land. 
He died from the wounds, for a month later we found 
his carcass on land, placed near camp. 

For two days, with a continuation of bad luck, 
we advanced slowly. Belcher Point was passed at mid- 
night of the 7th of August, just as the sun sank under 
the horizon for the first time. Beyond was a nameless 
bay, in which numerous icebergs were stranded. The 
bend of the bay was walled with great discharging gla- 
ciers. A heavy sea pitched our boat like a leaf in a gale. 
But, by seeking the shelter of bergs and passing inside 
of the drift, we managed to push to an island for camp. 

With moving glaciers on the land, and the sea 
storming and thundering, sleep was impossible. Ice- 
bergs in great numbers followed us into the bay, and 



362 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

later the storm-ground sea-ice filled the bay. On 
August 8, following a line of water along shore, we 
started eastward. 

A strong wind on our backs, with quiet waters, sent 
the little boat along at a swift pace. After a run of ten 
miles, a great quantity of ice, coming from the east, filled 
the bay with small fragments and ensnared us. 

Now the bay was jammed with a pack as difficult 
to travel over as quicksand. We were hopelessly beset. 
The land was sought, but it offered no shelter, no life, 
and no place flat enough to lie upon. We expected that 
the ice would break. It did not; instead, new winter 
ice rapidly formed. 

The setting sun brought the winter storms and 
premonitions of a long, bitter night. Meanwhile we 
eked a meagre living by catching occasional birds, which 
we devoured raw. 

Toward the end of August we pushed out on the 
ensnaring pack to a small but solid floe. I counted on 
this to drift somewhere — any place beyond the prison 
bars of the glaciers. Then we might move east or west 
to seek food. Our last meat was used, and we main- 
tained life only by an occasional gull or guillemot. This 
floe drifted to and fro, and slowly took us to Belcher 
Point, where we landed to determine our fate. To the 
east, the entire horizon was lined with ice. Belcher Point 
was barren of game and shelter. Further efforts for 
Baffin's Bay were hopeless. The falling temperature, 
the rapidly forming young ice, and the setting sun 
showed us that we had already gone too long without 
finding a winter refuge. 

Our only possible chance to escape death from 



UNDER THE WHIP OF FAMINE 363 

famine and frost was to go back to Cape Sparbo and 
compel the walrus that ripped our boat to give up his 
blubber, and then to seek our fortunes in the neighbor- 
hood. This was the only reachable place that had looked 
like game country. With empty stomachs, and on a 
heavy sea, we pushed westward to seek our fate. The 
outlook was discouraging. 

During all our enforced imprisonment we were 
never allowed to forget that the first duty in life was to 
provide for the stomach. Our muscles rested, but the 
signals sent over the gastric nerve kept the gray matter 
busy. 

We were near to the land where Franklin and his 
men starved. They had ammunition. We had none. 
A similar fate loomed before us. We had seen nothing 
to promise subsistence for the winter, but this cheerless 
prospect did not interfere with such preparations as we 
could make for the ultimate struggle. In our desperate 
straits we even planned to attack bears, should we find 
any, without a gun. Life is never so sweet as when its 
days seem numbered. 

The complete development of a new art of hunt- 
ting, with suitable weapons, was reserved for the dire 
needs of later adventures. The problem was begun by 
this time. By an oversight, most of our Eskimo imple- 
ments had been left on the returning sledges from 
Svartevoeg. 

We were thus not only without ammunition, but 
also without harpoons and lances. We fortunately had 
the material of which these could be made, and the boys 
possessed the savage genius to shape a new set of weap- 
ons. The slingshot and the looped line, which had 



S64 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

served such a useful purpose in securing birds, continued 
to be of prime importance. In the sledge was excellent 
hickory, which was utilized in various ways. Of this, 
bows and arrows could be made. Combined with the 
slingshot and the looped line snares, the combination 
would make our warfare upon the feathered creatures 
more effective. We counted upon a similar efficiency 
with the same weapons in our hoped-for attack upon 
future land animals. 

The wood of the sledge was further divided to 
make shafts for harpoons and lances. Realizing that 
our ultimate return to Greenland, and to friends, de- 
pended on the life of the sledge, the wood was used 
sparingly. Furthermore, hickory lends itself to great 
economy. It bends and twists, but seldom breaks in 
such a manner that it cannot be repaired. We had not 
much of this precious fibre, but enough for the time to 
serve our purpose. Along shore we had found musk ox 
horns and fragments of whale bone. Out of these the 
points of both harpoon and lance were made. A part 
of the sledge shoe was sacrificed to make metal points 
for the weapons. The nails of the cooking-box served 
as rivets. The seal skin, which we had secured a month 
earlier, was now carefully divided and cut into suitable 
harpoon and lassoo lines. We hoped to use this line to 
capture the bear and the musk ox. Our folding canvas 
boat was somewhat strengthened by the leather from 
our old boots, and additional bracing by the ever useful 
hickory of the sledge. Ready to engage in battle with 
the smallest and the largest creatures that might come 
within reach, we started west for Cape Sparbo. Death, 
on our journey, never seemed so near. 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 

DANGEROUS ADVENTURES IN A CANVAS BOAT — ON THE 
VERGE OF STARVATION, A MASSIVE BRUTE, WEIGHING 
THREE THOUSAND POUNDS, IS CAPTURED AFTER A 

FIFTEEN-HOUR STRUGGLE ROBBED OF PRECIOUS 

FOOD BY HUNGRY BEARS 

XXV 

Game Haunts Discovered 

The stormy sea rose with heavy swells. Ocean- 
ward, the waves leaped against the horizon tumultu- 
ously. Pursuing our vain search for food along the 
southern side of Jones Sound, early in September, we 
had been obliged to skirt rocky coves and shelves of land 
on which we might seek shelter should harm come to the 
fragile craft in which we braved the ocean storms and 
the spears of unseen ice beneath water. 

We had shaped crude weapons. We were pre- 
pared to attack game. We were starving; yet land and 
sea had been barren of any living thing. 

Our situation was desperate. In our course it was 
often necessary, as now, to paddle from the near refuge 
of low-lying shores, and to pass precipitous cliffs and 
leaping glaciers which stepped threateningly into the 
sea. Along these were no projecting surfaces, and we 
passed them always with bated anxiety. A sudden 



866 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

storm or a mishap at such a time would have meant 
death in the frigid sea. And now, grim and suffering 
with hunger, we clung madly to lif e. 

Passing a glacier which rose hundreds of feet out of 
the green sea, heavy waves rolled furiously from the 
distant ocean. Huge bergs rose and fell against the 
far-away horizon like Titan ships hurled to destruction. 
The waves dashed against the emerald walls of the 
smooth icy Gibraltar with a thunderous noise. We rose 
and fell in the frail canvas boat, butting the waves, our 
hearts each time sinking. 

Suddenly something white and glittering pierced 
the bottom of the boat! It was the tusk of a walrus, 
gleaming and dangerous. Before we could grasp the 
situation he had disappeared, and water gushed into our 
craft. It was the first walrus we had seen for several 
weeks. An impulse, mad under the circumstances, rose 
in our hearts to give him chase. It was the instinctive 
call of the hungering body for food. But each second 
the water rose higher; each minute was imminent with 
danger. Instinctively Ah-we-lah pressed to the floor of 
the boat and jammed his knee into the hole, thus partly 
shutting off the jetting, leaping inrush. He looked 
mutely to me for orders. The glacier offered no stop- 
ping place. Looking about with mad eagerness, I saw, 
seaward, only a few hundred yards away, a small pan of 
drift-ice. With the desire for life in our arms, we pushed 
toward it with all our might. Before the boat was 
pulled to its slippery landing, several inches of water 
flooded the bottom. Once upon it, leaping in the waves, 
we breathed with panting relief . With a piece of boot 
the hole was patched. Although we should have pre- 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 367 

ferred to wait to give the walrus a wide berth, the in- 
creasing swell of the stormy sea, and a seaward drift 
forced us away from the dangerous ice cliffs. 

Launching the boat into the rough waters, we 
pulled for land. A triangle of four miles had to be 
made before our fears could be set at rest. A school of 
walrus followed us in the rocking waters for at least 
half of the distance. Finally, upon the crest of a white- 
capped wave, we were lifted to firm land. Drawing the 
boat after us, we ran out of reach of the hungry waves, 
and sank to the grass, desperate, despairing, utterly 
fatigued, but safe. 

Now followed a long run of famine luck. We 
searched land and sea for a bird or a fish. In the boat 
we skirted a barren coast, sleeping on rocks without 
shelter and quenching our thirst by glacial liquid till the 
stomach collapsed. The indifferent stage of starvation 
was at hand when we pulled into a nameless bay, carried 
the boat on a grassy bench, and packed ourselves in it 
for a sleep that might be our last. 

We were awakened by the glad sound of distant 
walrus calls. Through the glasses, a group was located 
far off shore, on the middle pack. Our hearts began to 
thump. A stream of blood came with a rush to our 
heads. Our bodies were fired with a life that had been 
foreign to us for many moons. ~No famished wolf ever 
responded to a call more rapidly than we did. Quickly 
we dropped the boat into the water with the implements, 
and pushed from the famine shores with teeth set for 
red meat. 

The day was beautiful, and the sun from the west 
poured a wealth of golden light. Only an occasional 



368 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ripple disturbed the glassy blue through which the boat 
crept. The pack was about five miles northward. In 
our eagerness to reach it, the distance seemed spread to 
leagues. There was not a square of ice for miles about 
which could have been sought for refuge in case of an 
attack. But this did not disturb us now. We were 
blinded to everything except the dictates of our palates. 

As we advanced, our tactics were definitely ar- 
ranged. The animals were on a low pan, which seemed 
to be loosely run into the main pack. We aimed for a 
little cut of ice open to the leeward, where we hoped to 
land and creep up behind hummocks. The splash of our 
paddles was lost in the noise of the grinding ice and the 
bellowing of walrus calls. 

So excited were the Eskimos that they could hardly 
pull an oar. It was the first shout of the wilderness 
which we had heard in many months. We were lean 
enough to appreciate its import. The boat finally shot 
up on the ice, and we scattered among the ice blocks for 
favorable positions. Everything was in our favor. We 
did not for a moment entertain a thought of failure, 
although in reality, with the implements at hand, our 
project was tantamount to attacking an elephant with 
pocket knives. 

We came together behind an unusually high icy 
spire only a few hundred yards from the herd. Ten 
huge animals were lazily stretched out in the warm sun. 
A few lively babies tormented their sleeping mothers. 
There was a splendid line of hummocks, behind which 
we could advance under cover. With a firm grip on 
harpoon and line, we started. Suddenly E-tuk-i-shook 
shouted "Nannookl" (Bear.) 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 369 

We halted. Our implements were no match for a 
bear. But we were too hungry to retreat. The bear 
paid no attention to us. His nose was set for something 
more to his liking. Slowly but deliberately, he crept up 
to the snoring herd while we watched with a mad, envi- 
ous anger welling up within us. Our position was help- 
less. His long neck reached out, the glistening fangs 
closed, and a young walrus struggled in the air. All 
of the creatures woke, but too late to give battle. With 
dismay and rage, the walruses sank into the water, and 
the bear slunk off to a safe distance, where he sat down 
to a comfortable meal. We were not of sufficient im- 
portance to interest either the bear or the disturbed herd 
of giants. 

Our limbs were limp when we returned to the boat. 
The sunny glitter of the waters was now darkened by 
the gloom of danger from enraged animals. We 
crossed to the barren shores in a circuitous route, where 
pieces of ice for refuge were always within reach. 

On land, the night was cheerless and cold. We 
were not in a mood for sleep. In a lagoon we discovered 
moving things. After a little study of their vague darts 
they proved to be fish. A diligent search under stones 
brought out a few handfuls of tiny finny creatures. 
With gratitude I saw that here was an evening meal. 
Seizing them, we ate the wriggling things raw. Cook- 
ing was impossible, for we had neither oil nor wood. 

On the next day the sun at noon burned with a real 
fire — not the sham light without heat which had kept day 
and night in perpetual glitter for several weeks. Not a 
breath of air disturbed the blue glitter of the sea. Ice 
was scattered everywhere. The central pack was far- 



370 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ther away, but on it rested several suspicious black 
marks. Through the glasses we made these out to be 
groups of walruses. They were evidently sound asleep, 
for we heard no calls. They were also so distributed 
that there was a hunt both for bear and man without 
interference. 

We ventured out with a savage desire sharpened 
by a taste of raw fish. As we advanced, several other 
groups were noted in the water. They gave us much 
trouble. They did not seem ill-tempered, but danger- 
ously inquisitive. Our boat was dark in color and not 
much larger than the body of a full-sized bull. To 
them, I presume, it resembled a companion in distress 
or asleep. A sight of the boat challenged their curi- 
osity, and they neared us with the playful intention of 
testing with their tusks the hardness of the canvas. We 
had experienced such love taps before, however, with 
but a narrow escape from drowning, and we had no 
desire for further walrus courtship. 

Fortunately, we could maintain a speed almost 
equal to theirs, and we also found scattered ice-pans, 
about which we could linger while their curiosity was 
being satisfied by the splash of an occasional stone. 

From an iceberg we studied the various groups of 
walruses for the one best situated for our primitive 
methods of attack. We also searched for meddlesome 
bears. ' None was detected. Altogether we counted 
more than a hundred grunting, snorting creatures ar- 
ranged in black hills along a line of low ice. There were 
no hummocks or pressure lifts, under cover of which we 
might advance to within the short range required for our 
harpoons. All of the walrus-encumbered pans were 




TOWARD CAPE SPARBO IN CANVAS BOAT 

FOOD AND FUEL PRIZE OF A FIFTEEN HOUR BATTLE 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 371 

adrift and disconnected from the main pack. Conflict- 
ing currents gave each group a slightly different motion. 
We studied this movement for a little while. 

We hoped, if possible, to make our attack from the 
ice. With the security of a solid footing, there was no 
danger and there was a greater certainty of success. 
But the speed of the ice on this day did not permit such 
an advantage. We must risk a water attack. This is 
not an unusual method of the Eskimo, but he follows it 
with a kayak, a harpoon and line fitted with a float and 
a drag for the end of his line. Our equipment was only 
a makeshift, and could not be handled in the same way. 

Here was food in massive heaps. We had had no 
breakfast and no full meal for many weeks. Something 
must be done. The general drift was eastward, but the 
walrus pans drifted slightly faster than the main pack. 
Along the pack were several high points, projecting a 
considerable distance seaward. We took our position 
in the canvas boat behind one of these floating capes, and 
awaited the drift of the sleeping monsters. 

Their movement was slow enough to give us plenty 
of time to arrange our battle tactics. The most vital 
part of the equipment was the line. If it were lost, we 
could not hope to survive the winter. It could not be 
replaced, and without it we could not hope to cope with 
the life of the sea, or even that of the land. The line was 
a new, strong sealskin rawhide of ample length, which 
had been reserved for just such an emergency. At- 
tached to the harpoon, with the float properly adjusted, 
it is seldom lost, for the float moves and permits no 
sudden strain. 

To safeguard the line, a pan was selected only a few 



872 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

yards in diameter. This was arranged to do the duty 
of a float and a drag. With the knife two holes were 
cut, and into these the line was fastened near its center. 
The harpoon end was taken into the boat, the other end 
was coiled and left in a position where it could be easily 
picked from the boat later. Three important purposes 
were secured by this arrangement — the line was relieved 
of a sudden strain; if it broke, only half would be lost; 
and the unused end would serve as a binder to other ice 
when the chase neared its end. 

Now the harpoon was set to the shaft, and the bow 
of our little twelve-foot boat cleared for action. Peep- 
ing over the wall of ice, we saw the black-Uttered pans 
slowly coming toward us. Our excitement rose to a 
shouting point. But our nerves were under the disci- 
pline of famine. The pan, it was evident, would go by 
us at a distance of about fifty feet. 

The first group of walruses were allowed to pass. 
They proved to be a herd of twenty-one mammoth crea- 
tures, and, entirely aside from the danger of attack, their 
unanimous plunge would have raised a sea that must 
have swamped us. 

On the next pan were but three spots. At a dis- 
tance we persuaded ourselves that they were small — for 
we had no ambition for formidable attacks. One thou- 
sand pounds of meat would have been sufficient for us. 
They proved, however, to be the largest bulls of the lot. 
As they neared the point, the hickory oars of the boat 
were gripped — and out we shot. They all rose to meet 
us, displaying the glitter of ivory tusks from little 
heads against huge wrinkled necks. They grunted and 
snorted viciously — but the speed of the boat did not 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 373 

slacken. E-tuk-i-shook rose. With a savage thrust he 
sank the harpoon into a yielding neck. 

The walruses tumbled over themselves and sank 
into the water on the opposite side of the pan. We 
pushed upon the vacated floe without leaving the boat, 
taking the risk of ice puncture rather than walrus 
thumps. The short line came up with a snap. The ice 
pan began to plough the sea. It moved landward. 
What luck! I wondered if the walrus would tow us 
and its own carcass ashore. We longed to encourage 
the homing movement, but we dared not venture out. 
Other animals had awakened to the battle call, and now 
the sea began to seethe and boil with enraged, leaping 
red-eyed monsters. 

The float took a zigzag course in the offing. We 
watched the movement with a good deal of anxiety. Our 
next meal and our last grip on life were at stake. For 
the time being nothing could be done. 

The three animals remained together, two pushing 
the wounded one along and holding it up during breath- 
ing spells. In their excitement they either lost their 
bearings or deliberately determined to attack. Now 
three ugly snouts pointed at us. This was greatly to 
our advantage, for on ice we were masters of the 
situation. 

Taking inconspicuous positions, we awaited the as- 
sault. The Eskimos had lances, I an Alpine axe. The 
walruses dove and came on like torpedo boats, rising 
almost under our noses, with a noise that made us dodge. 
In a second two lances sank into the harpooned strug- 
gles. The water was thrashed. Down again went the 
three. The lances were jerked back by return lines, and 



374 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

in another moment we were ready for another assault 
from the other side. But they dashed on, and pulled the 
float-floe, on which we had been, against the one on which 
we stood, with a crushing blow. 

Here was our first chance to secure the unused end 
of the line, fastened on the other floe. Ah-we-lah 
jumped to the floe and tossed me the line. The spiked 
shaft of the ice-axe was driven in the ice and the line 
fixed to it, so now the two floes were held together. Our 
stage of action was enlarged, and we had the advantage 
of being towed by the animals we fought. 

Here was the quiet sport of the fisherman and the 
savage excitement of the battle-field run together in a 
new chase. The struggle was prolonged in successive 
stages. Time passed swiftly. In six hours, during 
which the sun had swept a quarter of the circle, the twin 
floes were jerked through the water with the rush of a 
gunboat. The jerking line attached to our enraged 
pilots sent a thrill of life which made our hearts jump. 
The lances were thrown, the line was shortened, a can- 
nonade of ice blocks was kept up, but the animal gave no 
signs of weakening. Seeing that we could not inflict 
dangerous wounds, our tactics were changed to a kind of 
siege, and we aimed not to permit the animal its breath- 
ing spells. 

The line did not begin to slacken until midnight. 
The battle had been on for almost twelve hours. But 
we did not feel the strain of action, nor did our chronic 
hunger seriously disturb us. Bits of ice quenched our 
thirst and the chill of night kept us from sweating. 
With each rise of the beast for breath now, the line 
slackened. Gently it was hauled in and secured. Then 



BEAR FIGHTS AND WALRUS BATTLES 375 

a rain of ice blocks, hurled in rapid succession, drove the 
spouting animals down. Soon the line was short enough 
to deliver the lance in the captured walrus at close range. 
The wounded animal was now less troublesome, but the 
others tore about under us like submarine boats, and at 
the most unexpected moments would shoot up with a 
wild rush. 

We did not attempt to attack them, however. All 
our attention was directed to the end of the line. The 
lance was driven with every opportunity. It seldom 
missed, but the action was more like spurs to a horse, 
changing an intended attack upon us to a desperate 
plunge into the deep, and depriving the walrus of 
oxygen. 

Finally, after a series of spasmodic encounters 
which lasted fifteen hours, the enraged snout turned 
blue, the fiery eyes blackened, and victory was ours — not 
as the result of the knife alone, not in a square fight of 
brute force, but by the superior cunning of the human 
animal under the stimulus of hunger. 

During all this time we had been drifting. Now, as 
the battle ended, we were not far from a point about 
three miles south of our camp. Plenty of safe pack-ice 
was near. A primitive pulley was arranged by passing 
the line through slits in the walrus' nose and holes in the 
ice. The great carcass, weighing perhaps three thou- 
sand pounds, was drawn onto the ice and divided into 
portable pieces. Before the sun poured its morning 
beams over the ice, all had been securely taken ashore. 

With ample blubber, a camp fire was now made be- 
tween two rocks by using moss to serve as a wick. Soon, 
pot after pot of savory meat was voraciously consumed. 



876 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

We ate with a mad, vulgar, insatiable hunger. We 
spoke little. Between gulps, the huge heap of meat and 
blubber was cached under heavy rocks, and secured — so 
we thought — from bears, wolves and foxes. 

When eating was no longer possible, sleeping dens 
were arranged in the little boat, and in it, like other glut- 
tonous animals after an engorgement, we closed our eyes 
to a digestive sleep. For the time, at least, we had fath- 
omed the depths of gastronomic content, and were at 
ease with ourselves and with a bitter world of inhuman 
strife. 

At the end of about fifteen hours, a stir about our 
camp suddenly awoke us. We saw a huge bear nosing 
about our fireplace. We had left there a walrus joint, 
weighing about one hundred pounds, for our next meal. 
We jumped up, all of us, at once, shouting and making 
a pretended rush. The bear took up the meat in his 
forepaws and walked off, man-like, on two legs, with a 
threatening grunt. His movement was slow and cau- 
tious, and his grip on the meat was secure. Occasion- 
ally he veered about, with a beckoning turn of the head, 
and a challenging call. But we did not accept the chal- 
lenge. After moving away about three hundred yards 
on the sea-ice, he calmly sat down and devoured our 
prospective meal. 

With lances, bows, arrows, and stones in hand, we 
next crossed a low hill, beyond which was located our 
precious cache of meat. Here, to our chagrin, we saw 
two other bears, with heads down and paws busily dig- 
ging about the cache. We were not fitted for a hand-to- 
hand encounter. Still, our lives were equally at stake, 
whether we attacked or failed to attack. Some defense 



Bear fights and walrus battles st"? 

must be made. With a shout and a fiendish rush, we 
attracted the busy brutes' attention. They raised their 
heads, turned, and to our delight and relief , grudgingly 
walked off seaward on the moving ice. Each had a big 
piece of our meat with him. 

Advancing to the cache, we found it absolutely de- 
pleted. Many other bears had been there. The snow 
and the sand was trampled down with innumerable bear 
tracks. Our splendid cache of the day previous was en- 
tirely lost. We could have wept with rage and disap- 
pointment. One thing we were made to realize, and 
that was that life here was now to be a struggle with the 
bears for supremacy. With little ammunition, we were 
not at all able to engage in bear fights. So, baffled, and 
unable to resent our robbery, starvation again confront- 
ing us, we packed our few belongings and moved west- 
ward over Braebugten Bay to Cape Sparbo. 




A THIEF OF THE NORTH 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 

AN ANCIENT CAVE EXPLORED FOR SHELTER — DEATH BY 
STARVATION AVERTED BY HAND-TO-HAND ENCOUN- 
TERS WITH "WILD ANIMALS 

XXVI 

To the Winter Camp at Cape Sparbo 

As we crossed the big bay to the east of Cape 
Sparbo, our eyes were fixed on the two huge Archaen 
rocks which made remarkable landmarks, jrising sud- 
denly to an altitude of about eighteen thousand feet. 
They appear like two mountainous island lifted out of 
the water. On closer approach, however, we found the 
islands connected with the mainland by low grassy 
plains, forming a peninsula. The grassy lands seemed 
like promising grounds for caribou and musk ox. The 
off -lying sea, we also found, was shallow. In this, I 
calculated, would be food to attract the seal and walrus. 

In our slow movement over the land swell of the 
crystal waters, it did not take long to discover that our 
conjecture was correct. 

Pulling up to a great herd of walrus, we prepared 
for battle. But the sea suddenly rose, the wind in- 
creased, and we were forced to abandon the chase and 
seek shelter on the nearest land. 

We reached Cape Sparbo, on the shores of Jones 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 379 

Sound, early in September. Our dogs were gone. Our 
ammunition, except four cartridges which I had 
secreted for use in a last emergency, was gone. Our 
equipment consisted of a half sledge, a canvas boat, a 
torn silk tent, a few camp kettles, tin plates, knives, and 
matches. Our clothing was splitting to shreds. 

Cape Sparbo, with its huge walls of granite, was to 
the leeward. A little bay was noted where we might 
gain the rocks in quiet water. Above the rocks was a 
small green patch where we hoped to find a soft resting 
place for the boat, so that we might place our furs in it 
and secure shelter from the bitter wind. 

When we landed we found to our surprise that it 
was the site of an old Eskimo village. There was a line 
of old igloos partly below water, indicating a very an- 
cient time of settlement, for since the departure of the 
builders of these igloos the coast must have settled at 
least fifteen feet. Above were a few other ruins. 

Shortly after arriving we sought an auspicious 
place, protected from the wind and cold, where later we 
might build a winter shelter. Our search disclosed a 
cave-like hole, part of which was dug from the earth, 
and over which, with stones and bones, had been con- 
structed a roof which now was fallen in. 

The long winter was approaching. We were over 
three hundred miles from Annoatok, and the coming 
of the long night made it necessary for us to halt here. 
We must have food and clothing. We, now came upon 
musk oxen and tried to fell them with boulders, and bows 
and arrows made of the hickory of our sledge. Day after 
day the pursuit was vainly followed. Had it not been 
for occasional ducks caught with looped lines and sling 



380 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

shots, we should have been absolutely without any food. 

By the middle of September, snow and frost came 
with such frequency that we omitted hunting for a day 
to dig out the ruins in the cave and cut sod before perma- 
nent frost made such work impossible. Bone imple- 
ments were shaped from skeletons found on shore for 
the digging. Blown drifts of sand and gravel, with some 
moss and grass, were slowly removed from the pit. We 
found under this, to our great joy, just the under- 
ground arrangement which we desired; a raised plat- 
form, about six feet long and eight feet wide with suit- 
able wings for the lamp, and footspace, lay ready for 
us. The pit had evidently been designed for a small 
family. The walls, which were about two feet high, 
required little alteration. Another foot was added, 
which leveled the structure with the ground. A good 
deal of sod was cut and allowed to dry in the sun for 
use as a roof. 

While engaged in taking out the stones and clean- 
ing the dungeon-like excavation, I suddenly experienced 
a heart-depressing chill when, lifting some debris, I saw 
staring at me from the black earth a hollow-eyed human 
skull. The message of death which the weird thing 
leeringly conveyed was singularly unpleasant ; the omen 
was not good. Yet the fact that at this forsaken spot 
human hands had once built shelter, or for this thing had 
constructed a grave, gave me a certain companionable 
thrill. 

On the shore not far away we secured additional 
whale ribs and with these made a framework for a roof. 
This was later constructed of moss and blocks of sod. 
We built a rock wall about the shelter to protect our- 



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PUNCTURED CANVAS BOAT IN WHICH WE PADDLED 1,000 MILES 

FAMINE DAYS WHEN ONLY STRAY BIRDS PREVENTED STARVATION 

DEN IN WHICH WERE SPENT 100 DOUBLE NIGHTS 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 381 

selves from storms and bears. Then our winter home 
was ready. Food was now an immediate necessity. 
Game was found around us in abundance. Most of it 
was large. On land there were bear and musk ox, in 
the sea the walrus and the whale. But what could we 
do without either dogs or rifles? 

The first weapon that we now devised was the bow 
and arrow, for with this we could at least secure some 
small game. We had in our sledge available hickory 
wood of the best quality, than which no wood could be 
better; we had sinews and seal lashings for strings, but 
there was no metal for tips. We tried bone, horn and 
ivory, but all proved ineffective. 

One day, however, E-tuk-i-shook examined his 
pocket knife and suggested taking the side blades for 
arrow tips. This was done, and the blade with its spring 
was set in a bone handle. Two arrows were thus tipped. 
The weapons complete, the Eskimo boys went out on 
the chase. They returned in the course of a few hours 
with a hare and an eider-duck. Joy reigned in camp as 
we divided the meat and disposed of it without the 
process of cooking. 

A day later, two musk oxen were seen grazing 
along the moraine of a wasting glacier. Now the musk 
ox is a peace-loving animal and avoids strife, but when 
forced into fight it is one of the most desperate and 
dangerous of all the fighters of the wilderness. It can 
and does give the most fatal thrust of all the horned 
animals. No Spanish bull of the pampas, no buffalo 
of the plains, has either the slant of horn or the intelli- 
gence to gore its enemies as has this inoffensive-looking 
bull of the ice world. The intelligence, indeed, is an 



382 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

important factor, for after watching musk oxen for a 
time under varied conditions, one comes to admire their 
almost human intellect as well as their superhuman 
power of delivering self-made force. 

Our only means of attack was with the bow and 

jr. The boys crept up behind rocks until within a 
few yards of the unsuspecting creatures. They bent 
the bows, and the arrows sped with the force and 
accuracy as only a hungry savage can master. But the 
beasts' pelts were too strong. The musk oxen jumped 
and faced their assailants. Each arrow, as it came, was 
broken into splints by the feet and the teeth. 

When the arrows were all used a still more primi- 
tive weapon was tried, for the sling shot was brought 
into use, with large stones. These missiles the musk 
oxen took good naturedly, merely advancing a few steps 
to a granite boulder, upon which they sharpened their 
horn points and awaited further developments. No 
serious injury had been inflicted and they made no 
effort to escape. 

Then came a change. When we started to give up 
the chase they turned upon us with a fierce rush. Fortu- 
nately, many big boulders were about, and we dodged 
around these with large stones in hand to deliver at close 
range. In a wild rush a musk ox cannot easily turn, and 
so can readily be dodged. Among the rocks two legs 
were better than four. The trick of evading the musk 
ox I had learned from the dogs. It saved our lives. 

After a while the animals wearied, and we beat a 
hasty retreat, with new lessons in our book of hunting 
adventures. The bow and arrow was evidently not the 
weapon with which to secure musk oxen, 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 383 

The musk ox of Jones Sound, unlike his brother 
farther north, is every ready for battle. He is often 
compelled to meet the bear and the wolf in vicious con- 
tests, and his tactics are as thoroughly developed as his 
emergencies require. Seldom does he fall the victim of 
his enemies. We were a long time in learning com- 
pletely his methods of warfare, and if, in the meantime, 
we had not secured other game our fate would have been 
unfortunate. 

Harpoons and lances were next finally completed, 
and with them we hastened to retrieve our honor in the 
"ah-ming-ma" chase. For, after all, the musk ox alone 
could supply our wants. Winter storms were coming 
fast. We were not only without food and fuel, but with- 
out clothing. In our desperate effort to get out of the 
regions of famine to the Atlantic, we had left behind 
all our winter furs, including the sleeping bags ; and our 
summer garments were worn out. We required the fuel 
and the sinew, the fat and the horn. 

One day we saw a herd of twenty-one musk oxen 
quietly grazing on a misty meadow, like cattle on the 
western plains. It was a beautiful sight to watch them, 
divided as they were into families and in small groups. 
The males were in fur slightly brown, while the females 
and the young ones were arrayed in magnificent black 
pelts. 

To get any of them seemed hopeless, but our ap- 
palling necessities forced us onward. There were no 
boulders near, but each of us gathered an armful of 
stones, the object being to make a sudden bombardment 
and compel them to retreat in disorder and scatter 
among the rocks. 



8S4 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

We approached under cover of a small grassy 
hummock. When we were detected, a bull gave a loud 
snort and rushed toward his nearest companions, where- 
upon the entire herd gathered into a circle, with the 
young in the center. 

We made our sham rush and hurled the stones. 
The oxen remained almost motionless, with their heads 
down, giving little snorts and stamping a little when 
hit, but quickly resuming their immobile position of 
watchfulness. After our stones were exhausted, the 
animals began to shift positions slightly. We inter- 
preted this as a move for action. So we gave up the 
effort and withdrew. 

The days were long and the nights still light 
enough to continue operations as long as we could keep 
our eyes open. The whip of hunger made rest impos- 
sible. So we determined to seek a less formidable group 
of oxen in a position more favorable. The search was 
continued until the sinking glimmer of the sun in the 
north marked the time of midnight — for with us at that 
time the compass was the timepiece. 

When E-tuk-i-shook secured a here with the bow 
and arrow, we ascended a rocky eminence and sat down 
to appease the calling stomach without a camp fire. 
From here we detected a family of four musk oxen 
asleep not far from another group of rocks. 

This was a call to battle. We were not long in 
planning our tactics. The wind was in our favor, per- 
mitting an attack from the side opposite the rocks to 
which we aimed to force a retreat. We also found small 
stones in abundance, these being now a necessary part of 
our armament. Our first effort was based on the suppo- 




BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX ABOUT CAPE SPARBO 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 385 

sition of their remaining asleep. They were simply chew- 
ing their cud, however, and rose to form a ring of de- 
fence as we advanced. We stormed them with stones 
and they took to the shelter of the rocks. We continued 
to advance slowly upon them, throwing stones occasion- 
ally to obviate a possible assault from them before we 
could also seek the shelter of the rocks. 

Besides the bow and arrow and the stones, we now 
had lances and these we threw as they rushed to attack 
us. Two lances were crushed to small fragments be- 
fore they could be withdrawn by the light line attached. 
They inflicted wounds, but not severe ones. 

Noting the immense strength of the animals, we at 
first thought it imprudent to risk the harpoon with its 
precious line, for if we lost it we could not replace it. 
But the destruction of the two lines left us no alterna- 
tive. 

Ah-we-lah threw the harpoon. It hit a rib, glanced 
to a rock, and was also destroyed. Fortunately we had 
a duplicate point, which was quickly fastened. Then 
we moved about to encourage another onslaught. 

Two came at once, an old bull and a young one. 
E-tuk-i-shook threw the harpoon at the young one, and 
it entered. The line had previously been fastened to a 
rock, and the animal ran back to its associates, appar- 
ently not severely hurt, leaving the line slack. One of 
the others immediately attacked the line with horns, 
hoofs and teeth, but did not succeed in breaking it. 

Our problem now was to get rid of the other three 
while we dealt with the one at the end of the line. Our 
only resource was a sudden fusilade of stones. This 
proved effective. The three scattered and ascended the 



386 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

boulder-strewn foreland of a cliff, where the oldest bull 
remained to watch our movements. The young bull 
made violent efforts to escape but the line of sealskin 
was strong and elastic. A lucky throw of a lance at 
close range ended the strife. Then we advanced on the 
old bull, who was alone in a good position for us. 

We gathered stones and advanced, throwing them 
at the creature's body. This, we found, did not enrage 
him, but it prevented his making an attack. As we 
gained ground he gradually backed up to the edge of 
the cliff, snorting viciously but making no effort what- 
ever either to escape along a lateral bench or to attack. 
His big brown eyes were upon us ; his sharp horns were 
pointed at us. He evidently was planning a desperate 
lunge and was backing to gain time and room, but each 
of us kept within a few yards of a good-sized rock. 

Suddenly we made a combined rush into the open, 
hurling stones, and keeping a long rock in a line for 
retreat. Our storming of stones had the desired effect. 
The bull, annoyed and losing its presence of mind, 
stepped impatiently one step too far backwards and fell 
suddenly over the cliff, landing on a rocky ledge below. 
Looking over we saw he had broken a fore leg. The cliff 
was not more than fifteen feet high. From it the lance 
was used to put the poor creature out of suffering. We 
were rich now and could afford to spread out our 
stomachs, contracted by long spells of famine. The bull 
dressed about three hundred pounds of meat and one 
hundred pounds of tallow. 

We took the tallow and as much meat as we could 
carry on our backs, and started for the position of our 
prospective winter camp, ten miles away. The meat 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 387 

left was carefully covered with heavy stones to protect 
it from hears, wolves and foxes. On the following day 
we returned with the canvas boat, making a landing 
about four miles from the battlefield. As we neared 
the caches we found to our dismay numerous bear and 
fox tracks. The bears had opened the caches and re- 
moved our hard-earned game, while the foxes and the 
ravens had cleared up the very fragments and de- 
stroyed even the skins. Here was cause for vengeance 
on the bear and the fox. The fox paid his skin later, 
but the bear out-generaled us in nearly every 
maneuvre. 

We came prepared to continue the chase but had 
abandoned the use of the harpoon. Our main hope for 
fuel was the blubber of the walrus, and if the harpoon 
should be destroyed or lost we could not hope to attack 
so powerful a brute as a walrus with any other device. 
In landing we had seen a small herd of musk oxen at 
some distance to the east, but they got our wind and 
vanished. We decided to follow them up. One day 
we found them among a series of rolling hills, where the 
receding glaciers had left many erratic boulders. They 
lined up in their ring of defence as usual when we were 
detected. There were seven of them ; all large creatures 
with huge horns. A bitter wind was blowing, driving 
some snow, which made our task more difficult. 

The opening of the fight with stones was now a 
regular feature which we never abandoned in our later 
development of the art, but the manner in which we de- 
livered the stones depended upon the effect which we 
wished to produce. If we wished the musk oxen to re- 
treat, we would make a combined rush, hurling the 



388 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

stones at the herd. If we wished them to remain in po- 
sition and discourage their attack, we advanced slowly 
and threw stones desultorily, more or less at random. 
If we wanted to encourage attacks, one man advanced 
and delivered a large rock as best he could at the head. 
This was cheap ammunition and it was very effective. 

In this case the game was in a good position for 
us and we advanced accordingly. They allowed us to 
take positions within about fifteen feet, but no nearer. 
The lances were repeatedly tried without effect, and 
after a while two of these were again broken. 

Having tried bow and arrow, stones, the lance and 
the harpoon, we now tried another weapon. We threw 
the lasso — but not successfully, owing to the bushy hair 
about the head and the roundness of the hump of the 
neck. Then we tried to entangle their feet with slip 
loops just as we trapped gulls. This also failed. We 
next extended the loop idea to the horns. The bull's 
habit of rushing at things hurled at him caused us to 
think of this plan. 

A large slip loop was now made in the center of 
the line, and the two natives took up positions on oppo- 
site sides of the animal. They threw the rope, with its 
loop, on the ground in front of the creature, while I 
encouraged an attack from the front. As the head was 
slightly elevated the loop was raised, and the bull put 
his horns in it, one after the other. The rope was now 
rapidly fastened to stones and the bull tightened the 
loop by his efforts to advance or retreat. With every 
opportunity the slack was taken up, until no play was 
allowed the animal. During this struggle all the other 
oxen retreated except one female, and she was in- 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 389 

offensive. A few stones at close range drove her off. 
Then we had the bull where we could reach him with the 
lance at arm's length, and plunge it into his vitals. He 
soon fell over, the first victim to our new art of musk 
ox capture. 

The others did not run very far away. Indeed, 
they were too fat to run, and two more were soon 
secured in the same way. This time we took all the meat 
we could with us to camp and left a man on guard. 
When all was removed to the bay we found the load too 
heavy for our boat, so, in two loads, we transported the 
meat and fat and skins to our camp, where we built 
caches which we believed impregnable to the bear, 
although the thieving creatures actually opened them 
later. 

Our lances repaired, we started out for another ad- 
venture a few days later. It was a beautiful day. Our 
methods of attack were not efficient, but we wished to 
avoid the risk of the last plunge of the lance, for our 
lives were in the balance every time if the line should 
break, and with every lunge of the animal we expected 
it to snap. In such case, we knew, the assailant would 
surely be gored. 

We were sufficiently independent now to proceed 
more cautiously. With the bull's willingness to put his 
head into the loop, I asked myself whether the line loop 
could not be slipped beyond the horns and about the 
neck, thus shutting off the air. So the line was length- 
ened with this effort in view. 

Of the many groups of oxen which we saw we 
picked those in the positions most to our advantage, 
although rather distant. Our new plan was tried with 



390 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

success on a female. A bull horned her vigorously 
when she gasped for breath, and which aided our 
efforts. A storming of stones scattered the others of 
the group, and we were left to deal with our catch 
with the knife. 

Our art of musk ox fighting was now completely 
developed. In the course of a few weeks we secured 
enough to assure comfort and ease during the long 
night. By our own efforts we were lifted suddenly 
from famine to luxury. But it had been the stomach 
with its chronic emptiness which had lashed the mind and 
body to desperate efforts with sufficient courage to face 
the danger. Hunger, as I have found, is more potent 
as a stimulant than barrels of whiskey. Beginning with 
the bow and arrow we had tried everything which we 
could devise, but now our most important acquisition 
was our intimate knowledge of the animal's own means 
of offense and defense. 

We knew by a kind of instinct when an attack 
upon us was about to be made, because the animal made 
a forward move, and we never failed in our efforts to 
force a retreat. The rocks which the animals sought for 
an easy defense were equally useful to us, and later we 
forced them into deep waters and also deep snow with 
similar success. By the use of stones and utilizing the 
creatures' own tactics we placed them where we wished. 
And then again, by the animal's own efforts, we forced 
it to strangle itself, which, after all, was the most 
humane method of slaughter. Three human lives were 
thus saved by the invention of a new art of chase. 
This gave us courage to attack those more vicious but 
less dangerous animals, the bear and walrus. 



BULL FIGHTS WITH THE MUSK OX 391 

The musk ox now supplied many wants in our 
"Robinson Crusoe" life. From the bone we made har- 
poon points, arrow pieces, knife handles, fox traps and 
sledge repairs. The skin, with its remarkable fur, made 
our bed and roofed our igloo. Of it we made all kinds 
of garments, but its greatest use was for coats with 
hoods, stockings and mittens. From the skin, with the 
fur removed, we made boots, patched punctures in our 
boat, and cut lashings. The hair and wool which were 
removed from the skins made pads for our palms in the 
mittens and cushions for the soles of our feet in lieu of 
the grass formerly used. 

The meat became our staple food for seven months 
without change. It was a delicious product. It has a 
flavor slightly sweet, like that of horseflesh, but still 
distinctly pleasing. It possesses an odor unlike musk 
but equally unlike anything that I know of. The live 
creatures exhale the scent of domestic cattle. Just why 
this odd creature is called "musk" ox is a mystery, for 
it is neither an ox, nor does it smell of musk. The 
Eskimo name of "ah-ming-ma" would fit it much better. 
The bones were used as fuel for outside fires, and the 
fat as both fuel and food. 

At first our wealth of food came with surprise and 
delight to us, for, in the absence of sweet or starchy 
foods, man craves fat. Sugar and starch are most 
readily converted into fat by the animal laboratory, and 
fat is one of the prime factors in the development and 
maintenance of the human system. It is the confec- 
tionery of aboriginal man, and we had taken up the lot 
of the most primitive aborigines, living and thriving 
solely on the product of the chase without a morsel of 



392 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



civilized or vegetable food. Under these circumstances 
we especially delighted in the musk ox tallow, and more 
especially in the marrow, which we sucked from the 
bone with the eagerness with which a child jubilantly 
manages a stick of candy. 




AECTIC WOLF 



WITH A NEW ART OF CHASE IN A NEW 
WORLD OF LIFE 

THREE WEEKS BEFORE THE SUNSET OF 1908 REVELLING 

IN AN EDEN OF GAME PECULIARITIES OF ANIMALS 

OF THE ARCTIC HOW NATURE DICTATES ANIMAL 

COLOR — THE QUEST OF SMALL LIFE 

XXVII 

Coming of the Second Winter 

In two months, from the first of September to the 
end of October, we passed from a period of hunger, 
thirst and abject misery into the realm of abundant 
game. The spell for inactivity had not yet come. Up 
to this time we were too busy with the serious business 
of lif e to realize thoroughly that we had really discovered 
a new natural wonderland. The luck of Robinson 
Crusoe was not more fortunate than ours, although he 
had not the cut of frost nor the long night, nor the 
torment of bears to circumscribe his adventures. In 
successive stages of battle our eyes had opened to a new 
world of life. 

In searching every nook and cranny of land we had 
acquired new arts of life and a new perspective of 
nature's wonders. We slept in caves in storm; in 
the lee of icebergs in strong winds and on the mossy 
cushions of little concavities. Here we learned to study 



394 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

and appreciate primal factors of both animal and plant 
life. 

In the Arctic, nature tries to cover its nakedness in 
places where the cruel winds do not cut its contour. 
The effort is interesting, not only because of the charm 
of the verdant dress, but because of the evidence of a 
motherly protection to the little lif e cells which struggle 
against awful odds to weave that fabric wherever a 
terrestrial dimple is exposed to the kisses of the south- 
ern sun. In these depressions, sheltered from the 
blasts of storms, a kindly hand spreads a beautiful 
mantle of colorful grass, moss, lichens and flowery 
plants. 

Here the lemming digs his home under the velvet 
cover, where he may enjoy the roots and material pro- 
tection from the abysmal frost of the long night. Here 
in the warm fields of Mother Earth, blanketed by the 
warm white robe of winter, he sleeps the peace of death 
while the warring elements blast in fury outside. 

Here the Arctic plays with its bunnies during 
summer, and as the winter comes the young grow to 
full maturity and dress in a silky down of white. Under 
the snow they burrow, making long tunnels, still eating 
and sleeping on their loved cushions of frozen plants, 
far under the snow-skirts of Mother Earth, while the 
life-stilling blasts without expend their wintry force. 

Here the ptarmigan scratches for its food. The 
musk ox and the caribou browse, while the raven, with a 
kind word for all, collects food for its palate. The bear 
and the wolf occasionally visit to collect tribute, while 
the falcon and the fox with one eye open are ever on 
the alert for the exercise of their craft. 



NEW ART OF CHASE 895 

In these little smiling indentations of nature, when 
the sun begins to caress the gentle slopes, while the snow 
melts and flows in leaping streams — the sea still locked 
by the iron grip of the winter embrace — the Arctic in- 
cubator works overtime to start the little ones of the 
snow wilds. Thus in these dimples of nature rocks the 
cradle of boreal life. 

Relieved of the all-absorbing\ care of providing 
food, I now was often held spellbound as I wandered 
over these spots of nature's wonders. Phases of life 
which never interested me before now riveted my atten- 
tion. Wandering from the softly cushioned gullies, the 
harsh ridge life next came under my eyes. While the 
valleys and the gullies become garden spots of summer 
glory, the very protection from winds which makes this 
lif e possible buries the vegetable luxuriousness in winter 
under unfathomable depths of snow. The musk ox and 
the caribou, dependent upon this plant life for food, 
therefore become deprived of the usual means of sub- 
sistence. But Mother Nature does not desert her 
children. The same winds which compel man and 
feebler animals to seek shelter from its death-dealing 
assault, afford food to the better fitted musk ox and 
caribou. In summer, plants, like animals, climb to 
ridges, hummocks and mountain slopes, to get air and 
light and warm sunbeams. But the battle here is hard, 
and only very strong plants survive the force of wind 
and frosts. 

The plant fibre here become tenacious ; with a body 
gnarled and knotty from long conflict the roots dig 
yards deep into the soil. This leaves the breathing part 
of the plant dwarfed to a few inches. Here the winter 



396 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

winds sweep off the snow and offer food to the musk ox 
and caribou. Thus the wind, which destroys, also gives 
means of life. The equalizing balance of nature is truly 
wonderful. 

In small, circumscribed areas we thus found our- 
selves in a new Eden of primeval life. 

The topography of North Devon, however, placed 
a sharp limit to the animated wilderness. Only a nar- 
row strip of coast about Cape Sparbo, extending about 
twenty-five miles to the east and about forty miles to 
the west, presented any signs of land life. All other 
parts of the south shore of Jones Sound are more bar- 
ren than the shores of the Polar sea. 

Although our larder was now well stocked with 
meat for food and blubber for fuel, we were still in need 
of furs and skins to prepare a new equipment with 
which to return to the Greenland shores. The animals 
whose pelts we required were abundant everywhere. 
But they were too active to be caught by the art and 
the weapons evolved earlier in the chase of the walrus, 
bear and musk ox. 

A series of efforts, therefore, was directed to the 
fox, the hare, the ptarmigan and the seal. It was neces- 
sary to devise special methods and means of capture 
for each family of animals. The hare was perhaps the 
most important, not only because its delicately flavored 
meat furnished a pleasing change from the steady diet 
of musk ox, but also because its skin is not equalled by 
any other for stockings. In our quest of the musk ox 
we had startled little groups of creatures from many 
centers. Their winter fur was not prime until after the 
middle of October. Taking notes of their haunts and 



NEW ART OF CHASE 897 

their habits, we had, therefore, reserved the hare hunt 
until the days just before sunset. 

We had learned to admire this little aristocrat. It 
is the most beautiful, most delicate of northern crea- 
tures. Early in the summer we had found it grazing 
in the green meadows along the base of bird cliffs. The 
little gray bunnies then played with their mothers about 
crystal dens. Now the babes were full grown and 
clothed in the same immaculate white of the parents. 
We could distinguish the young only by their greater 
activity and their ceaseless curiosity. 

In the immediate vicinity of camp we found them 
first in gullies where the previous winter's snow had but 
recently disappeared. Here the grass was young and 
tender and of a flavor to suit their taste for delicacies. 
A little later they followed the musk ox to the shores of 
lagoons or to the wind-swept hills. Still later, as the 
winter snows blanketed the pastures and the bitter 
storms of night swept the cheerless drifts, they dug 
long tunnels under the snow for food, and when the 
storms were too severe remained housed in these feeding 
dugouts. 

An animal of rare intelligence, the hare is quick to 
grasp an advantage, and therefore as winter advances 
we find it a constant companion of the musk ox. For in 
the diggings of the musk ox this little creature finds 
sufficient food uncovered for its needs. 

With a skeleton as light as that of the bird and a 
skin as frail as paper it is nevertheless as well prepared 
to withstand the rigors of the Arctic as the bear with 
its clumsy anatomy. The entire makeup of the hare is 
based upon the highest strain of animal economy. It 



398 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

expends the greatest possible amount of energy at the 
cost of the least consumption of food. Its fur is as 
white as the boreal snows and absorbs color somewhat 
more readily. In a stream of crimson light it appears 
red and white; in a shadow of ice or in the darkness of 
night it assumes the subdued blue of the Polar world. 
Nature has bleached its fur seemingly to afford the best 
protection against the frigid chill, for a suitable white 
fur permits the escape of less bodily heat than any 
colored or shaded pelt. 

The fox is its only real enemy, and the fox's chance 
of success is won only by superior cunning. Its protec- 
tion against the fox lies in its lightning-like movement 
of the legs. When it scents danger it rises by a series 
of darts that could be followed only by birds. Its ex- 
penditure of muscular energy is so economical that it 
can continue its run for an almost indefinite time. 
Shooting along a few hundred paces, it then rises to rest 
in an erect posture. With its black-tipped ears in line 
with its back it makes a fascinating little bit of na- 
ture's handiwork. Again, when asleep, it curls up 
its legs carefully in the long fur of its body, and its ever- 
active nose, with the divided lip, is then pushed into the 
long soft fur of the breast where the frost crystals are 
screened from the breath when storms carry drift snow. 
It is a fluffy ball of animation which provokes one's 
admiration. 

Deprived as we were of most of the usual comforts 
of life, many things were taught us by the creatures 
about. From the hare, with its scrupulous attention to 
cleanliness, we learned how to cleanse our hands and 
faces. With no soap, no towels and very little water, 



NEW ART OF CHASE 399 

we had some difficulty in trying to keep respectable 
appearances. The hare has the same problem to deal 
with, but it is provided by nature with a cleansing appa- 
ratus. Its own choice is the forepaw, but with its need 
for snow shoes the hind legs serve a very useful purpose, 
and then, too, the surface is developed, a surface covered 
with tough fur which, we discovered, possessed the 
quality of a wet sponge and did not require, for effi- 
ciency, either soap or water. With hare paws, therefore, 
we kept clean. These paws also served as napkins. To 
take the place of a basin and a towel we therefore gath- 
ered a supply of hare paws, enough to keep clean for 
at least six months. 

The hare was a good mark for E-tuk-i-shook with 
the sling shot, and many fell victims to his primitive 
genius. Ah-we-lah, never an expert at stone slinging, 
became an adept with the bow and arrow. Usually he 
returned with at least a hare from every day's chase. 
Our main success resulted from a still more primitive 
device. Counting on its inquisitiveness we devised a 
chain of loop lines arranged across the hare's regular 
lines of travel. In playing and jumping through these 
loops, the animal tightened the lines and became our vic- 
tim automatically. 

The ptarmigan chase was possible only for Ah-we- 
lah. The bird was not at all shy, for it often came close 
to our den and scattered the snow like a chicken. It was 
too small a mark for the sling shot and only Ah-we-lah 
could give the arrow the precise direction for these 
feathered creatures. Altogether, fifteen were secured 
in our locality, and all served as dessert for my special 
benefit, According to Eskimo custom, a young, un- 



400 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

married man or woman cannot eat the ptarmigan, or 
"ahr-rish-shah" as they call it. That pleasure is re- 
served for the older people, and I did not for a moment 
risk the sacrilege of trying to change the custom. It 
was greatly to my advantage, for it not only impressed 
with suitable force my dignity as a superior Eskimo, 
but it enabled me to enjoy an entire bird at a time in- 
stead of only a teasing mouthful. 

To us the ptarmigan was at all times fascinating, 
but it proved ever a thing of mystery. Descending from 
the skies at unexpected times it embarks again for 
haunts unknown. At times we saw the birds in great 
numbers. At other times they were absent for months. 
In summer the bird has gray and brown feathers, 
mingled with white. It keeps close to the inland ice, 
making its course along the snowy coast of Noonataks, 
beyond the reach of man or fox. Late in September it 
seeks the lower ground along the sea level. 

Like the hare and the musk ox, it delights in windy 
places where the snow has been driven away. There it 
finds bits of moss and withered plants which satisfy its 
needs. The summer plumage is at first sight like that 
of the partridge. On close examination one finds the 
feathers are only tipped with color — underneath, the 
plumage is white. In winter it retains only the black 
feathers of its tail, otherwise it is as white as the hare. 
Its legs often are covered with tough fur, like that of 
the hare's lower hind legs. The meat is delicate in 
flavor and tender. It is the most beautiful of the four 
birds that remain in the white world when all is bleak 
during the night. 

We sought the fox more diligently than the ptarmi- 



NEW ART OF CHASE 401 

gan. We had a more tangible way of securing it. 
Furthermore, we were in great need of its skin. 
E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah regarded fox hams as 
quite a delicacy — a delicacy which I never willingly 
shared when there were musk tenderloins about. We 
had no steel traps, and with its usual craft the fox usu- 
ally managed to evade our crude weapons by keeping 
out of sight. Bone traps were made with a good deal of 
care after the pattern of steel traps. We used a musk-ox 
horn as a spring. But with these we were only partially 
successful. As a last resort, little domes were arranged 
in imitation of the usual caches, with trap stone doors. 
In these we managed to secure fourteen white and two 
blue animals. After that they proved too wise for our 
craft. 

The fox becomes shy only in the end of October, 
when its fur begins to be really worth taking. Before 
that it followed us everywhere on the musk ox quest, for 
it was not slow to learn the advantage of being near our 
battle scenes. We frequently left choice bits for its 
picking, a favor which it seemed to appreciate by a care- 
ful watchfulness of our camps. Although a much more 
cunning thief than the bear, we could afford its plunder- 
ings, for it had not so keen a taste for blubber and its 
capacity was limited. We thus got well acquainted. 

Up to the present we had failed in the quest of the 
seal. During the open season of summer, without a 
kayak, we could not get near the animal. As the winter 
and the night advanced, we were too busy with the land 
animals to watch the blow-holes of the new ice. When 
the sea is first spread with the thin sheet of colorless ice, 
which later thickens, the seal rises to the surface, makes 



402 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

a breathing hole, descends to its feeding grounds on the 
sea bottom for about ten minutes, then rises and makes 
another hole. This line of openings is arranged in a 
circle or a series of connecting, oblong lines, marking 
that particular seal's favorite feeding ground. Before 
the young ice is covered with snow, these breathing holes 
are easily located by a ring of white frost crystals, which 
condense and fall as the seal blows. But now that the 
winter had sheeted the black ice evenly with a white 
cover, the seal holes, though open, could not be found. 
We were not in need of either fat or meat, but the seal 
skins were to fill an important want. We required for 
boots and sled lashing the thin, tough seal hide. How 
could we get it? 

From our underground den we daily watched the 
wanderings of the bears. They trailed along certain 
lines which we knew to be favorable feeding grounds for 
seals, but they did not seem to be successful. Could we 
not profit by their superb scenting instinct and find the 
blow-holes? The bear had been our worst enemy, but 
unconsciously it also proved to be our best friend. 

We started out to trail the bear's footprints. By 
these we were led to the blow-holes, where we found the 
snow about had been circled with a regular trail. Most 
of these had been abandoned, for the seal has a scent as 
keen as the bear, but a few "live" holes were located. 
Sticks were placed to locate these, and after a few days' 
careful study and hard work we harpooned six seals. 
Taking only the skins and blubber, we left the carcasses 
for bruin's share of the chase — to be consumed later. We 
did not hunt together — at least, not knowingly. 

In these wanderings over game lands we were 



NEW ART OF CHASE 403 

permitted a very close scrutiny of the animals about, and 
it was at this time that I came to certain definite con- 
clusions as to prevailing laws of color and dress of our 
co-habitants of the Polar wastes. 

The animals of the Arctic assume a color in accord- 
ance to their need for heat transmission. The prevail- 
ing influence is white, as light furs permit the least 
escape of heat. It is evidently more important to con- 
fine the heat of the body, than to gather heat from the 
sim's feeble rays. The necessity for bleaching the furry 
raiment becomes most operative in winter when the 
temperature of the air is 150° below that of the body. 
In the summer, when the continued sunshine is made 
more heating by the piercing influence of the reflect- 
ing snow-fields, there is a tendency to absorb heat. Then 
nature darkens the skin, which absorbs heat accordingly. 

The relative advantage of light and dark shades 
can be easily demonstrated by placing pieces of white 
and black cloth on a surface of snow, with a slope at 
right angles to the sun's rays. If, after a few hours, 
the cloth is removed the snow under the black cloth will 
be melted considerably, while that under the white cloth 
will show little effect. 

Nature makes use of this law of physics to ease 
the hard lot of its creatures fighting the weather in the 
icy world. The laws of color protection as advocated 
in the rules of natural selection are not operative here, 
because of the vitally important demand of heat econ- 
omy. If we now seek the problem of nature's body 
colored dyes, with heat economy as the key, our calcu- 
lations will become easy. The serwah, a species of guil- 
lemot, which is as black as the raven in summer, is white 



404 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

in winter. The ptarmigan is light as pearl in winter, but 
its feathers become tipped with amber in summer. The 
hare is slightly gray in summer, but, in winter, becomes 
white as the snow under which it finds food and shelter. 

The white fox is gray in summer, the blue fox 
darkens as the sun advances, while its under fur becomes 
lighter with increasing cold. The caribou is dark brown 
as it grazes the moss-colored fields, but becomes nearly 
white with the permanent snows. The polar bear, as 
white as nature can make it, with only blubber to mix 
its pantry, basks in the midnight sun with a raiment 
suggestive of gold. The musk ox changes its dark 
under-fur for a lighter shade. The raven has a white 
under-coat in winter. The rat is gray in summer but 
bleaches to blue-gray in winter time. The laws of selec- 
tion and heat economy are thus combined. 

While thus preparing for the coming winter by 
seeking animals with furry pelts, the weather conditions 
made our task increasingly difficult. The storm of the 
descending sun whipped the seas into white fury and 
brushed the lands with icy clouds. With the descent of 
the sun, nature again set its seal of gloom on Arctic life. 
The cheer of a sunny heaven was blotted from the skies, 
and the coming of the winter blackness was signalled by 
the beginning of a warfare of the elements. All hostile 
nature was now set loose to expend its restive battle 
energy. 

For brief moments the weather was quiet, and then 
in awe-inspiring silence we steered for sequestered gul- 
lies in quest of little creatures. This death-like stillness 
was in harmony with our loneliness. As the sea was 
stilled by the iron bonds of frost, as life sought protec- 



NEW ART OF CHASE 



405 



tion under the storm-driven snows of land, the winds, 
growing even wilder, beat a maddening onslaught over 
the dead, frozen world. The thunder of elements shook 
the very rocks under which we slept. Then again would 
fall a spell of that strange silence — all was dead, the sun 
glowed no more, the creatures of the wilds were hushed. 
We were all alone — alone in a vast, white dead world. 




A HUNDRED NIGHTS IN AN UNDER- 
GROUND DEN 

LIVING LIKE MEN OF THE STONE AGE THE DESOLATION 

OF THE LONG NIGHT — LIFE ABOUT CAPE SPARBO — 
PREPARING EQUIPMENT FOR THE RETURN TO GREEN- 
LAND — SUNRISE,, FEBRUARY 11, 1909 

XXVIII 

Life About Cape Sparbo 

The coming night slowly fixed its seal on our field 
of activity. Early in August the sun had dipped under 
the icy contour of North Lincoln, and Jones Sound had 
then begun to spread its cover of crystal. The warm 
rays gradually melted in a perpetual blue frost. The 
air thickened. The land darkened. The days shortened. 
The night lengthened. The Polar cold and darkness 
of winter came hand in hand. 

Late in September the nights had become too dark 
to sleep in the open, with inquisitive bears on every side. 
Storms, too, increased thereafter and deprived us of the 
cheer of colored skies. Thus we were now forced to 
seek a retreat in our underground den. 

We took about as kindly to this as a wild animal 
does to a cage. For over seven months we had wandered 
over vast plains of ice, with a new camp site almost 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 407 

every day. We had grown accustomed to a wandering 
life like that of the bear, but we had not developed his 
hibernating instinct. We were anxious to continue our 
curious battle of lif e. 

In October the bosom of the sea become blanketed, 
and the curve of the snow-covered earth was polarized 
in the eastern skies. The final period for the death of 
day and earthly glory was advancing, but Nature in her 
last throes displayed some of her most alluring phases. 
The colored silhouette of the globe was perhaps the most 
remarkable display. In effect, this was a shadow of the 
earth thrown into space. But the reflected, refracted 
and polarized light of the sun, the terrestrial shadows 
were outlined against the sky in glowing colors. Seen 
occasionally in other parts of the globe, it is only in the 
Polar regions, with its air of crystal and its surface of 
mirrors, that the proper mediums are afforded for this 
gigantic spectral show. 

We had an ideal location. A glittering sea, with a 
level horizon, lay along the east and west. The weather 
was good, the skies were clear, and, as the sun sank, the 
sky over it was flushed with orange or gold. This 
gradually paled, and over the horizon opposite there 
rose an arc in feeble prismatic colors with a dark zone 
of purple under it. The arc rose as the sun settled; the 
purple spread beyond the polarized bow; and gradually 
the heavens turned a deep purple blue to the zenith, 
while the halo of the globe was slowly lost in its own 
shadow. 

The colored face of the earth painted on the screen 
of the heavens left the last impression of worldly charm 
on the retina. In the end of October the battle of the 



408 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

elements, storms attending the setting of the sun, began 
to blast the air into a chronic fury. By this time we 
were glad to creep into our den and await the vanishing 
weeks of ebbing day. 

In the doom of night to follow, there would at least 
be some quiet moments during which we could stretch 
our legs. The bears, which had threatened our exist- 
ence, were now kept off by a new device which served 
the purpose for a time. We had food and fuel enough 
for the winter. There should have been nothing to have 
disturbed our tempers, but the coming of the long black- 
ness makes all Polar life ill at ease. 

Early in November the storms ceased long enough 
to give us a last fiery vision. With a magnificent cardi- 
nal flame the sun rose, gibbered in the sky and sank be- 
hind the southern cliffs on November 3. It was not to 
rise again until February 11 of the next year. We were 
therefore doomed to hibernate in our underground den 
for at least a hundred double nights before the dawn of 
a new day opened our eyes. 

The days now came and went in short order. For 
hygienic reasons we kept up the usual routine of life. 
The midday light soon darkened to twilight. The moon 
and stars appeared at noon. The usual partition of time 
disappeared. All was night, unrelieved darkness, mid- 
night, midday, morning or evening. 

We stood watches of six hours each to keep the 
fires going, to keep off the bears and to force an interest 
in a blank life. We knew that we were believed to be 
dead. For our friends in Greenland would not ascribe 
to us the luck which came after our run of abject 
misfortune. This thought inflicted perhaps the greatest 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 409 

pain of the queer prolongation of life which was per- 
mitted us. It was loneliness, frigid loneliness. I won- 
dered whether men ever felt so desolately alone. 

We could not have been more thoroughly isolated 
if we had been transported to the surface of the moon. 
I find myself utterly unable to outline the emptiness of 
our existence. In other surroundings we never grasp 
the full meaning of the word "alone." When it is pos- 
sible to put a foot out of doors into sunlight without the 
risk of a bear-paw on your neck it is also possible to 
run off a spell of blues, but what were we to do with 
every dull rock rising as a bear ghost and with the tor- 
ment of a satanic blackness to blind us? 

With the cheer of day, a kindly nature and a new 
friend, it is easy to get in touch with a sympathetic 
chord. The mere thought of another human heart within 
touch, even a hundred miles away, would have eased 
the suspense of the silent void. But we could entertain 
no such hopefulness. We were all alone in a world 
where every pleasant aspect of nature had deserted us. 
Although three in number, a bare necessity had com- 
pressed us into a single composite individuality. 

There were no discussions, no differences of 
opinion. We had been too long together under bitter 
circumstances to arouse each other's interest. A single 
individual could not live long in our position. A selfish 
instinct tightened a fixed bond to preserve and protect 
one another. As a battle force we made a formidable 
unit, but there was no matches to start the fires of 
inspiration. 

The half darkness of midday and the moonlight still 
permitted us to creep from under the ground and seek 



410 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

a few hours in the open. The stone and bone fox traps 
and the trap caves for the bears which we had built dur- 
ing the last glimmer of day offered an occupation with 
some recreation. But we were soon deprived of this. 

Bears headed us off at every turn. We were not 
permitted to proceed beyond an enclosed hundred feet 
from the hole of our den. Not an inch of ground or a 
morsel of food was permitted us without a contest. It 
was a fight of nature against nature. We either actually 
saw the little sooty nostrils with jets of vicious breath 
rising, and the huge outline of a wild beast ready to 
spring on us, or imagined we saw it. With no adequate 
means of defense we were driven to imprisonment 
within the walls of our own den. 

From within, our position was even more tantaliz- 
ing. The bear thieves dug under the snows over our 
heads and snatched blocks of blubber fuel from under 
our very eyes at the port without a consciousness of 
wrongdoing. Occasionally we ventured out to deliver 
a lance, but each time the bear would make a leap for 
the door and would have entered had the opening been 
large enough. In other cases we shot arrows through 
the peep-hole. A bear head again would burst through 
the silk covered window near the roof, where knives, at 
close range and in good light, could be driven with 
sweet vengeance. 

As a last resort we made a hole through the top of 
the den. When a bear was heard near, a long torch was 
pushed through. The snow for acres about was then 
suddenly flashed with a ghostly whiteness which almost 
frightened us. But the bear calmly took advantage of 
the light to pick a larger piece of the blubber upon 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 411 

which our lives depended, and then with an air of super- 
iority he would move into the brightest light, usually 
within a few feet of our peep-hole, where we could 
almost touch his hateful skin. Without ammunition we 
were helpless. 

Two weeks after sunset we heard the last cry of 
ravens. After a silence of several days they suddenly 
descended with a piercing shout which cut the frosty 
stillness. We crept out of our den quickly to read the 
riddle of the sudden bluster. There were five ravens on 
five different rocks, and the absence of the celestial color 
gave them quite an appropriate setting. They were 
restless: there was no food for them. A fox had pre- 
ceded them with his usual craftiness, and had left no 
pickings for feathered creatures. 

A family of five had gathered about in October, 
when the spoils of the chase were being cached, and we 
encouraged their stay by placing food for them regu- 
larly. Some times a sly fox, and at other times a thiev- 
ing bear, got the little morsels, but there were usually 
sufficient picking for the raven's little crop. They had 
found a suitable cave high up in the great cliffs of gran- 
ite behind our den. 

We were beginning to be quite friendly. My 
Eskimo companions ascribed to the birds almost human 
qualities and they talked to them reverently, thereby dis- 
playing their heart's desire. The secrets of the future 
were all entrusted to their consideration. Would the 
"too-loo-ah" go to Eskimo Lands and deliver their 
messages? The raven said "ka-ah" (yes). 

E-tuk-i-shook said: "Go and take the tears from 
An-na-do-a's eyes ; tell her that I am alive and well and 



412 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

will come to take her soon. Tell Pan-ic-pa (his father) 
that I am in Ah-ming-ma-noona (Musk Ox Land). 
Bring us some powder to blacken the bear's snout." 
"Ka-ah, ka-ah," said the two ravens at once. 

Ah-we-lah began an appeal to drive off the bears 
and to set the raven spirits as guardians of our blubber 
caches. This was uttered in shrill shouts, and then, in 
a low, trembling voice, he said: "Dry the tears of 
mother's cheeks and tell her that we are in a land of 
todnu (tallow)." 

"Ka-ah," replied the raven. 

"Then go to Ser-wah; tell her not to marry that 
lazy gull, Ta-tamh ; tell her that Ah-we-lah's skin is still 
flushed with thoughts of her, that he is well and will 
return to claim her in the first moon after sunrise." 
"Ka-ah, ka-ah, ka-ah," said the raven, and rose as if to 
deliver the messages. 

For the balance of that day we saw only three 
ravens. The two had certainly started for the Green- 
land shores. The other three, after an engorgement, rose 
to their cave and went to sleep for the night as we 
thought. No more was seen of them until the dawn of 
day of the following year. 

A few days later we also made other acquaintances. 
They were the most interesting bits of life that crossed 
our trail, and in the dying effort to seek animal com- 
panionship our soured tempers were sweetened some- 
what by four-footed joys. 

A noise had been heard for several successive days 
at eleven o'clock. This was the time chosen by the bears 
for their daily exercise along our foot-path, and we were 
usually all awake with a knife or a lance in hand, not 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 413 

because there was any real danger, for our house 
cemented by ice was as secure as a fort, but because 
we felt more comfortable in a battle attitude. Through 
the peep-hole we saw them marching up and down along 
the foot-path tramped down by our daily spells of leg- 
stretching. 

They were feasting on the aroma of our foot-prints, 
and when they left it was usually safe for us to venture 
out. Noises, however, continued within the walls of the 
den. It was evident that there was something alive at 
close range. 

We were lonely enough to have felt a certain de- 
light in shaking hands even with bruin if the theft of 
our blubber had not threatened the very foundation of 
our existence. For in the night we could not augment 
our supplies; and without fat, fire and water were im- 
possible. No ! there was not room for man and bear at 
Cape Sparbo. Without ammunition, however, we were 
nearly helpless. 

But noises continued after bruin's steps came with 
a decreasing metallic ring from distant snows. There 
was a scraping and a scratching within the very walls 
of our den. We had a neighbor and a companion. 
Who, or what, could it be? We were kept in suspense 
for some time. When all was quiet at the time which 
we chose to call midnight, a little blue rat came out and 
began to tear the bark from our willow lamp trimmer. 

I was on watch, awake, and punched E-tuk-i-shook 
without moving my head. His eyes opened with sur- 
prise on the busy rodent, and Ah-we-lah was kicked. 
He turned over and the thing jumped into a rock 
crevasse. 



414 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

The next day we risked the discomfort of bruin's 
interview and dug up an abundance of willow roots for 
our new tenant. These were arranged in appetizing 
display and the rat came out very soon and helped him- 
self, but he permitted no familiarity. We learned to 
love the creature, however, all the more because of its 
shyness. By alternate jumps from the roots to seclu- 
sion it managed to fill up with all it could carry. Then 
it disappeared as suddenly as it came. 

In the course of two days it came back with a com- 
panion, its mate. They were beautiful little creatures, 
but little larger than mice. They had soft, fluffy fur of 
a pearl blue color, with pink eyes. They had no tails. 
Their dainty little feet were furred to the claw tips with 
silky hair. They made a picture of animal delight 
which really aroused us from stupor to little spasms of 
enthusiasm. A few days were spent in testing our in- 
tentions. Then they arranged a berth just above my 
head and became steady boarders. 

Their confidence and trust flattered our vanity and 
we treated them as royal guests. No trouble was too 
great for us to provide them with suitable delicacies. 
We ventured into the darkness and storms for hours to 
dig up savory roots and mosses. A little stage was 
arranged every day with the suitable footlights. In the 
eagerness to prolong the rodent theatricals, the little 
things were fed over and over, until they became too fat 
and too lazy to creep from their berths. 

They were good, clean orderly camp fellows, always 
kept in their places and never ventured to borrow our 
bed furs, nor did they disturb our eatables. With a keen 
sense of justice, and an aristocratic air, they passed our 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 415 

plates of carnivorous foods without venturing a taste, 
and went to their herbivorous piles of sod delicacies. 
About ten days before midnight they went to sleep and 
did not wake for more than a month. Again we were 
alone. Now even the bears deserted us. 

In the dull days of blankness which followed, few 
incidents seemed to mark time. The cold increased. 
Storms were more continuous and came with greater 
force. We were cooped up in our underground den 
with but a peep-hole through the silk of our old tent to 
watch the sooty nocturnal bluster. We were face to 
face with a spiritual famine. With little recreation, no 
amusements, no interesting work, no reading matter, 
with nothing to talk about, the six hours of a watch 
were spread out to weeks. 

We had no sugar, no coffee, not a particle of civi- 
lized food. We had meat and blubber, good and whole- 
some food at that. But the stomach wearied of its 
never changing carnivorous stuffing. The dark den, 
with its walls of pelt and bone, its floor decked with 
frosted tears of ice, gave no excuse for cheer. Insanity, 
abject madness, could only be avoided by busy hands 
and long sleep. 

My life in this underground place was, I suppose, 
like that of a man in the stone age. The interior was 
damp and cold and dark; with our pitiable lamps burn- 
ing, the temperature of the top was fairly moderate, 
but at the bottom it was below zero. Our bed was a 
platform of rocks wide enough for three prostrate men. 
Its forward edge was our seat when awake. Before this 
was a space where a deeper hole in the earth permitted 
us to stand upright, one at a time. There, one by one, 



416 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

we dressed and occasionally stood to move our stiff and 
aching limbs. 

On either side of this standing space was half a tin 
plate in which musk-ox fat was burned. We used moss 
as a wick. These lights were kept burning day and 
night; it was a futile, imperceptible sort of heat they 
gave. Except when we got close to the light, it was im- 
possible to see one another's faces. 

We ate twice daily — without enjoyment. We had 
few matches, and in fear of darkness tended our lamps 
diligently. There was no food except meat and tallow; 
most of the meat, by choice, was eaten raw and frozen. 
Night and morning we boiled a small pot of meat for 
broth; but we had no salt to season it. Stooped and 
cramped, day by day, I found occasional relief from the 
haunting horror of this life by rewriting the almost illeg- 
ible notes made on our journey. 

My most important duty was the preparation of 
my notes and observations for publication. This would 
afford useful occupation and save months of time after- 
wards. But I had no paper. My three note books were 
full, and there remained only a small pad of prescription 
blanks and two miniature memorandum books. I re- 
solved, however, to try to work out the outline of my 
narrative in chapters, in these. I had four good 
pencils and one eraser. These served a valuable 
purpose. With sharp points I shaped the words in small 
letters. When the skeleton of the book was ready I 
was surprised to find how much could be crowded on a 
few small pages. By a liberal use of the eraser many 
parts of pages were cleared of unnecessary notes. En- 
tire lines were written between all the lines of the note 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 417 

books, the pages thus carrying two narrations or series 
of notes. 

By the use of abbreviations and dashes, a kind of 
short-hand was devised. My art of space economy com- 
plete, I began to write, literally developing the very use- 
ful habit of carefully shaping every idea before an at- 
tempt was made to use the pencil. In this way my 
entire book and several articles were written. Charts, 
films and advertisement boxes were covered. In all 
150,000 words were written, and absolute despair, which 
in idleness opens the door to madness, was averted. 

Our needs were still urgent enough to enforce much 
other work. Drift threatened to close the entrance to 
our dungeon and this required frequent clearing. 
Blubber for the lamp was sliced and pounded every day. 
The meat corner was occasionally stocked, for it re- 
quired several days to thaw out the icy musk ox quarters. 
Ice was daily gathered and placed within reach to keep 
the water pots full. The frost which was condensed out 
of our breaths made slabs of ice on the floor, and this re- 
quired occasional removal. The snow under our bed 
furs, which had a similar origin, was brushed out now 
and then. 

Soot from the lamps, a result of bad housekeeping, 
which a proud Eskimo woman would not have tolerated 
for a minute, was scraped from the bone rafters about 
once a week. With a difference of one hundred degrees 
between the breathing air of the den and that outside 
there was a rushing interchanging breeze through every 
pinhole and crevice. The ventilation was good. The 
camp cleanliness could almost have been called hygienic, 
although no baths had been indulged in for six months, 



418 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

and then only by an unavoidable, undesirable accident. 

Much had still to be done to prepare for our home- 
going in the remote period beyond the night. It was 
necessary to plan and make a new equipment. The 
sledge, the clothing, the camp outfit, everything which 
had been used in the previous campaign, were worn out. 
Something could be done by judicious repairing, but 
nearly everything required reconstruction. In the new 
arrangement we were to take the place of the dogs at 
the traces and the sledge loads must be prepared accord- 
ingly. There was before us an unknown line of trouble 
for three hundred miles before we could step on Green- 
land shores. It was only the hope of homegoing, which 
gave some mental strength in the night of gloom. Musk 
ox meat was now cut into strips and dried over the 
lamps. Tallow was prepared and moulded in portable 
form for fuel. 

But in spite of all efforts we gradually sank to the 
lowest depths of the Arctic midnight. The little mid- 
day glimmer on the southern sky became indiscernible. 
Only the swing of the Great Dipper and other stars 
told the time of the day or night. We had fancied that 
the persistent wind ruffled our tempers. But now it was 
still; not a breath of air moved the heavy blackness. In 
that very stillness we found reasons for complaint. 
Storms were preferable to the dead silence; anything 
was desirable to stir the spirits to action. 

Still the silence was only apparent. Wind noises 
floated in the frosty distance ; cracking rocks, exploding 
glaciers and tumbling avalanches kept up a muffled 
rumbling which the ear detected only when it rested on 
the floor rock of our bed. The temperature was low — 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 419 

— 48° F. — so low that at times the very air seemed to 
crack. Every creature of the wild had been buried in 
drift ; all nature was asleep. In our dungeon all was a 
mental blank. 

Not until two weeks after midnight did we awake 
to a proper consciousness of life. The faint brightness 
of the southern skies at noon opened the eye to spiritual 
dawn. The sullen stupor and deathlike stillness van- 
ished. 

Shortly after black midnight descended I began to 
experience a curious psychological phenomenon. The 
stupor of the days of travel wore away, and I began to 
see myself as in a mirror. I can explain this no better. 
It is said that a man falling from a great height usually 
has a picture of his life flashed through his brain in the 
short period of descent. I saw a similar cycle of events. 

The panorama began with incidents of childhood, 
and it seems curious now with what infinite detail I saw 
people whom I had long forgotten, and went through 
the most trivial experiences. In successive stages every 
phase of life appeared and was minutely examined; 
every hidden recess of gray matter was opened to in- 
terpret the biographies of self-analysis. The hopes of 
my childhood and the discouragements of my youth 
filled me with emotion; feelings of pleasure and sadness 
came as each little thought picture took definite shape; 
it seemed hardly possible that so many things, potent 
for good and bad, could have been done in so few years. 
I saw myself, not as a voluntary being, but rather as a 
resistless atom, predestined in its course, being carried 
on by an inexorable fate. 

Meanwhile our preparations for return were being 



420 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

accomplished. This work had kept us busy during all 
of the wakeful spells of the night. Much still remained 
to be done. 

Although real pleasure followed all efforts of 
physical labor, the balking muscles required consider- 
able urging. Musk ox meat was cut into portable 
blocks, candles were made, fur skins were dressed and 
chewed, boots, stockings, pants, shirts, sleeping bags 
were made. The sledge was re-lashed, things were 
packed in bags. All was ready about three weeks be- 
fore sunrise. Although the fingers and the jaws were 
thus kept busy, the mind and also the heart were left 
free to wander. 

In the face of all our efforts to ward aside the ill 
effects of the night we gradually became its victims. 
Our skin paled, our strength failed, the nerves weak- 
ened, and the mind ultimately became a blank. The 
most notable physical effect, however, was the alarming 
irregularity of the heart. 

In the locomotion of human machinery the heart is 
the motor. Like all good motors it has a governor which 
requires some adjustment. In the Arctic, where the 
need of regulation is greatest, the facilities for adjust- 
ment are withdrawn. In normal conditions, as the ma- 
chine of life pumps the blood which drives all, its force 
and its regularity are governed by the never-erring sun- 
beams. When these are withdrawn, as they are in the 
long night, the heart pulsations become irregular; at 
times slow, at other times spasmodic. 

Light seems to be as necessary to the animal as to 
the plant. A diet of fresh meat, healthful hygienic sur- 
roundings, play for the mind, recreation for the body, 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 421 

and strong heat from open fires, will help ; but only the 
return of the heaven-given sun will properly adjust the 
motor of man. 

As the approaching day brightened to a few hours 
of twilight at midday, we developed a mood for animal 
companionship. A little purple was now thrown on 
the blackened snows. The weather was good. All the 
usual sounds of nature were suspended, but unusual 
sounds came with a weird thunder. The very earth 
began to shake in an effort to break the seal of frost. 
For several days nothing moved into our horizon which 
could be imagined alive. 

About two weeks before sunrise the rats woke and 
began to shake their beautiful blue fur in graceful little 
dances, but they were not really alive and awake in a 
rat sense for several days. At about the same time the 
ravens began to descend from their hiding place and 
screamed for food. There were only three; two were 
still conversing with the Eskimo maidens far away, as 
my companions thought. 

In my subsequent strolls I found the raven den and 
to my horror discovered that the two were frozen. I 
did not deprive E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah of their 
poetic dream; the sad news of raven bereavement was 
never told. 

The foxes now began to bark from a safe distance 
and advanced to get their share of the camp spoils. 
Ptarmigan shouted from nearby rocks. Wolves were 
heard away in the musk ox fields, but they did not 
venture to pay us a visit. 

The bear that had shadowed us everywhere before 
midnight was the last to claim our friendship at dawn. 



422 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

There were good reasons for this which we did not learn 
until later. The bear stork had arrived. But really we 
had changed heart even towards the bear. Long before 
he returned we were prepared to give him a welcome 
reception. In our new and philosophical turn of mind 
we thought better of bruin. In our greatest distress 
during the previous summer he had kept us alive. In 
our future adventures he might perform a similar mis- 
sion. After all he had no sporting proclivities; he 
did not hunt or trouble us for the mere fun of our dis- 
comfort or the chase. His aim in life was the very- 
serious business of getting food. Could we blame him? 
Had we not a similar necessity? 

A survey of our caches proved that we were still 
rich in the coin of the land. There remained meat and 
blubber sufficient for all our needs, with considerable 
to spare for other empty stomachs. So, to feed the bear, 
meat was piled up in heaps for his delight. 

The new aroma rose into the bleaching night air. 
We peeped with eager eyes through our ports to spot 
results. The next day at eleven o'clock footsteps were 
heard. The noise indicated caution and shyness instead 
of the bold quick step which we knew so well. There 
was room for only one eye and only one man at a time 
at the peep-hole, and so we took turns. Soon the bear 
was sighted, proceeding with the utmost caution behind 
some banks and rocks. The blue of the snows, with 
yellow light, dyed his fur to an ugly green. He was 
thin and gaunt and ghostly. There was the stealth and 
the cunning of the fox in his movements. But he could 
not get his breakfast, the first after a fast of weeks, 
without coming squarely into our view. 



IN AN UNDERGROUND DEN 423 

The den was buried under the winter snows and 
did not disturb the creature, but the size of the pile of 
meat did disturb its curiosity. When within twenty-five 
yards, a few sudden leaps were made, and the ponderous 
claws came down on a walrus shoulder. His teeth began 
to grind like a stone cutter. For an hour the bear stood 
there and displayed itself to good advantage. Our 
hatred of the creature entirely vanished. 

Five days passed before that bear returned. In 
the meantime we longed for it to come back. We had 
unconsciously developed quite a brotherly bear interest. 
In the period which followed we learned that eleven 
o'clock was the hour, and that five days was the period 
between meals. The bear calendar and the clock were 
consulted with mathematical precision. 

We also learned that our acquaintance was a 
parent. By a little exploration in February we dis- 
covered the bear den, in a snow covered cave, less than 
a mile west. In it were two saucy little teddies in 
pelts of white silk that would have gladdened the heart 
of any child. The parents were not at home at the time, 
and we were not certain enough of their friendship, or 
of their whereabouts, to play with the twins. 

With a clearing horizon and a wider circle of friend- 
ship our den now seemed a cheerful home. Our spirits 
awakened as the gloom of the night was quickly lost in 
the new glitter of day. 

On the eleventh of February the snow-covered 
slopes of North Devon glowed with the sunrise of 1909. 
The sun had burst nature's dungeon. Cape Sparbo 
glowed with golden light. The frozen sea glittered with 
hills of shimmering lilac. We escaped to a joyous free- 



424 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

dom. With a reconstructed sled, new equipment and 
newly acquired energy we were ready to pursue the 
return journey to Greenland and fight the last battle of 
the Polar campaign. 




GUILLEMOT 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE AND 
HALF-FILLED STOMACHS 

THREE HUNDRED MILES THROUGH STORM AND SNOW AND 

UPLIFTED MOUNTAINS OF ICE TROUBLES DISCOVER 

TWO ISLANDS ANNOATOK IS REACHED MEETING 

HARRY WHITNEY — NEWS OF PEARY's SEIZURE OF 
SUPPLIES 

XXIX 

Back to Greenland Friends 

On February 18, 1908, the reconstructed sledge 
was taken beyond the ice fort and loaded for the home 
run. We had given up the idea of journeying to Lan- 
caster Sound to await the whalers. There were no 
Eskimos on the American side nearer than Pond's Inlet. 
It was somewhat farther to our headquarters on the 
Greenland shores, but all interests would be best served 
by a return to Annoatok. 

During the night we had fixed all of our attention 
upon the return journey, and had prepared a new equip- 
ment with the limited means at our command; but, trav- 
eling in the coldest season of the year, it was necessary 
to carry a cumbersome outfit of furs, and furthermore, 
since we were to take the place of the dogs in the traces, 
we could not expect to transport supplies for more than 



426 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

thirty days. In this time, however, we hoped to reach 
Cape Sabine, where the father of E-tuk-i-shook had 
been told to place a cache of food for us. 

Starting so soon after sunrise, the actual daylight 
proved very brief, but a brilliant twilight gave a re- 
markable illumination from eight to four. The light of 
dawn and that of the afterglow was tossed to and fro in 
the heavens, from reflecting surfaces of glitter, for four 
hours preceding and following midday. To use this 
play of light to the best advantage, it was necessary to 
begin preparations early by starlight; and thus, when 
the dim purple glow from the northeast brightened the 
dull gray-blue of night, the start was made for Green- 
land shores and for home. 

We were dressed in heavy furs. The temperature 
was — 49°. A light air brushed the frozen mist out of 
Jones Sound, and cut our sooty faces. The sled was 
overloaded, and the exertion required for its movement 
over the groaning snow was tremendous. A false, 
almost hysterical, enthusiasm lighted our faces, but the 
muscles were not yet equal to the task set for them. 

Profuse perspiration came with the first hours of 
dog work, and our heavy fur coats were exchanged for 
the sealskin nitshas (lighter coat) . At noon the snows 
were fired and the eastern skies burned in great lines of 
flame. But there was no sun and no heat. We sat on 
the sledge for a prolonged period, gasping for breath 
and drinking the new celestial glory so long absent from 
our outlook. As the joy of color was lost in the cold 
purple of half-light, our shoulders were braced more 
vigorously into the traces. The ice proved good, but 
the limit of strength placed camp in a snowhouse ten 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 427 

miles from our winter den. With the new equipment, 
our camp life now was not like that of the Polar cam- 
paign. Dried musk ox meat and strips of musk fat 
made a steady diet. Moulded tallow served as fuel in 
a crescent-shaped disk of tin, in which carefully pre- 
pared moss was crushed and arranged as a wick. Over 
this primitive fire we managed to melt enough ice to 
quench thirst, and also to make an occasional pot of 
broth as a luxury. While the drink was liquefying, the 
chill of the snow igloo was also moderated, and we 
crept into the bags of musk ox skins, where agreeable 
repose and home dreams made us forget the cry of the 
stomach and the torment of the cold. 

At the end of eight days of forced marches we 
reached Cape Tennyson. The disadvantage of man- 
power, when compared to dog motive force, was clearly 
shown in this effort. The ice was free of pressure trou- 
bles and the weather was endurable. Still, with the best 
of luck, we had averaged only about seven miles daily. 
With dogs, the entire run would have been made easily 
in two days. 

As we neared the land two small islands were dis- 
covered. Both were about one thousand feet high, with 
precipitous sea walls, and were on a line about two miles 
east of Cape Tennyson. The most easterly was about 
one and a half miles long, east to west, with a cross- 
section, north to south, of about three-quarters of a mile. 
About half a mile to the west of this was a much smaller 
island. There was no visible vegetation, and no life was 
seen, although hare and fox tracks were crossed on the 
ice. I decided to call the larger island E-tuk-i-shook, 
and the smaller Ah-we-lah. These rocks will stand as 



428 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

monuments to the memory of my faithful savage com- 
rades when all else is forgotten. 

From Cape Tennyson to Cape Isabella the coast of 
Ellesmere Land was charted, in the middle of the last 
century, by ships at a great distance from land. Little 
has been added since. The wide belt of pack thrown 
against the coast made further exploration from the 
ship very difficult, but in our northward march over the 
sea-ice it was hoped that we might keep close enough to 
the shores to examine the land carefully. 

A few Eskimos had, about fifty years previously, 
wandered along this ice from Pond's Inlet to the Green- 
land camps. They left the American shores because 
famine, followed by forced cannibalism, threatened to 
exterminate the tribe. A winter camp had been placed 
on Coburg Island. Here many walruses and bears were 
secured during the winter, while in summer, from Kent 
Island, many guillemots were secured. In moving 
from these northward, by skin boat and kayak, they 
noted myriads of guillemots, or "acpas," off the south- 
east point of the mainland. There being no name in 
the Eskimo vocabulary for this land, it was called Acpo- 
hon, or "The Home of Guillemots." The Greenland 
Eskimos had previously called the country "Ah-ming- 
mah Noona," or Musk Ox Land, but they also adopted 
the name of Acpohon, so we have taken the liberty of 
spreading the name over the entire island as a general 
name for the most northern land west of Greenland. 
In pushing northward, many of the Eskimos starved, 
and the survivors had a bitter fight for subsistence. Our 
experience was similar. 

Near Cape Paget those ancient Eskimos made a 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 429 

second winter camp. Here narwhals and bears were 
secured, and through Talbot's Fiord a short pass was 
discovered over Ellesmere Land to the musk ox country 
of the west shores. The Eskimos who survived the sec- 
ond winter reached the Greenland shores during the 
third summer. There they introduced the kayak, and 
also the bow and arrow. Their descendants are to-day 
the most intelligent of the most northern Eskimos. 

To my companions the environment of the new 
land which we were passing was in the nature of digging 
up ancient history. Several old camp sites were lo- 
cated, and E-tuk-i-shook, whose grandfather was one of 
the old pioneers, was able to tell us the incidents of each 
camp with remarkable detail. 

As a rule, however, it was very difficult to get near 
the land. Deep snows, huge pressure lines of ice, and 
protruding glaciers forced our line of march far from 
the Eskimo ruins which we wished to examine. 
From Cape Tennyson to Cape Clarence the ice near the 
open water proved fairly smooth, but the humid saline 
surface offered a great resistance to the metal plates of 
the sled. Here ivory or bone plates would have les- 
sened the friction very much. A persistent northerly 
wind also brought the ice and the humid discomfort of 
our breath back to our faces with painful results. Dur- 
ing several days of successive storms we were impris- 
oned in the domes of snow. By enforced idleness we 
were compelled to use a precious store of food and fuel, 
without making any necessary advance. 

Serious difficulties were encountered in moving 
from Cape Clarence to Cape Faraday. Here the ice 
was tumbled into mountains of trouble. Tremendous 



430 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

snowdrifts and persistent gales from the west made 
traveling next to impossible, and, with no game and no 
food supply in prospect, I knew that to remain idle 
would be suicidal. The sledge load was lightened, and 
every scrap of fur which was not absolutely necessary 
was thrown away. The humid boots, stockings and 
sealskin coats could not be dried out, for fuel was more 
precious than clothing. All of this was discarded, and, 
with light sleds and reduced rations, we forced along 
over hummocks and drift. In all of our Polar march 
we had seen no ice which offered so much hardship as 
did this so near home shores. The winds again cut 
gashes across our faces. With overwork and insuffi- 
cient food, our furs hung on bony eminences over shriv- 
eled skins. 

At the end of thirty-five days of almost ceaseless 
toil we managed to reach Cape Faraday. Our food 
was gone. We were face to face with the most des- 
perate problem which had fallen to our long run of hard 
luck. Famine confronted us. We were far from the 
haunts of game; we had seen no living thing for a 
month. Every fiber of our bodies quivered with cold 
and hunger. In desperation we ate bits of skin and 
chewed tough walrus lines. A half candle and three 
cups of hot water served for several meals. Some 
tough walrus hide was boiled and eaten with relish. 
While trying to masticate this I broke some of my teeth. 
It was hard on the teeth, but easy on the stomach, and 
it had the great advantage of dispelling for prolonged 
periods the pangs of hunger. But only a few strips of 
walrus line were left after this was used. 

Traveling, as we must, in a circuitous route, there 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 431 

was still a distance of one hundred miles between us and 
Cape Sabine, and the distance to Greenland might, by 
open water, be spread to two hundred miles. This un- 
known line of trouble could not be worked out in less 
than a month. Where, I asked in desperation, were we 
to obtain subsistence for that last thirty days? 

To the eastward, a line of black vapors indicated 
open water about twenty-five miles off shore. There 
were no seals on the ice. There were no encouraging 
signs of life ; only old imprints of bears and foxes were 
left on the surface of the cheerless snows at each camp. 
For a number of days we had placed our last meat as 
bait to attract the bears, but none had ventured to pay 
us a visit. The offshore wind and the nearness of the 
open water gave us some life from this point. 

Staggering along one day, we suddenly saw a bear 
track. These mute marks, seen in the half -dark of the 
snow, filled us with a wild resurgence of hope for life. 
On the evening of March 20 we prepared cautiously for 
the coming of the bear. 

A snowhouse was built, somewhat stronger than 
usual; before it a shelf was arranged with blocks of 
snow, and on this shelf attractive bits of skin were 
arranged to imitate the dark outline of a recumbent 
seal. Over this was placed a looped line, through which 
the head and neck must go in order to get the bait. 
Other loops were arranged to entangle the feet. All 
the lines were securely fastened to solid ice. Peepholes 
were cut in all sides of the house, and a rear port was cut, 
from which we might escape or make an attack. Our 
lances and knives were now carefully sharpened. When 
all was ready, one of us remained on watch while the 



432 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

others sought a needed sleep. We had not long to 
wait. Soon a crackling sound on the snows gave the 
battle call, and with a little black nose extended from a 
long neck, a vicious creature advanced. 

Through our little eye-opening and to our empty- 
stomach he appeared gigantic. Apparently as hungry 
as we were, he came in straight reaches for the bait. 
The run port was opened. Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i- 
shook emerged, one with a lance, the other with a spiked 
harpoon shaft. Our lance, our looped line, our bow 
and arrow, I knew, however, would be futile. 

During the previous summer, when I foresaw a 
time of famine, I had taken my four last cartridges and 
hid them in my clothing. Of the existence of these, the 
two boys knew nothing. These were to be used at the 
last stage of hunger, to kill something — or ourselves. 
That desperate time had not arrived till now. 

The bear approached in slow, measured steps, 
smelling the ground where the skin lay. 

I jerked the line. The loop tightened about the 
bear's neck. At the same moment the lance and the 
spike were driven into the growling creature. 

A fierce struggle ensued. I withdrew one of the 
precious cartridges from my pocket, placed it in my 
gun, and gave the gun to Ah-we-lah, who took aim. 
and fired. When the smoke cleared, the bleeding bear 
lay on the ground. 

We skinned the animal, and devoured the warm, 
steaming flesh. Strength revived. Here were food 
and fuel in abundance. We were saved! With the 
success of this encounter, we could sit down and five 
comfortably for a month; and before that time should 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 483 

elapse seals would seek the ice for sun baths, and when 
seals arrived, the acquisition of food for the march to 
Greenland would be easy. 

But we did not sit down. Greenland was in sight ; 
and, to an Eskimo, Greenland, with all of its icy dis- 
comforts, has attractions not promised in heaven. In 
this belief, as in most others, I was Eskimo by this time. 
With very little delay, the stomach was spread with 
chops, and we stretched to a gluttonous sleep, only to 
awake with appetites that permitted of prolonged stuff- 
ing. It was a matter of economy to fill up and thus 
make the sled load lighter. When more eating was 
impossible we began to move for home shores, dragging 
a sled overloaded with the life-saving prize. 

A life of trouble, however, lay before us. Suc- 
cessive storms, mountains of jammed ice, and deep 
snow, interrupted our progress and lengthened the 
course over circuitous wastes of snowdrifts and black- 
ened our horizon. When, after a prodigious effort, 
Cape Sabine was reached, our food supply was again 
exhausted.* 



*The Tragedies of Cape Sabine. — Cape Sabine has been the scene of 
one of the saddest Arctic tragedies — the death by starvation of most of 
the members of the Greely Expedition. Several modern travelers, including 
Mr. Peary, have, in passing here, taken occasion to criticise adversely the 
management of this expedition. In his last series of articles in Hampton's 
Magazine, Peary has again attempted to throw discredit on General Greely. 
It is easy, after a lapse of forty years, to show the mistakes of our 
predecessors, and thereby attempt to belittle another's effort; but is it 
right? I have been at Cape Sabine in a half -starved condition, as General 
Greely was. I have watched the black seas of storm thunder the ice and 
rock walls, as he did; and I have looked longingly over the impassable 
stretches of death-dealing waters to a land of food and plenty, as he did. 
I did it, possessing the accumulated knowledge of the forty years which 
have since passed, and I nearly succumbed in precisely the same manner 
as did the unfortunate victims of that expedition. The scientific results 
of the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition were so carefully and so thoroughly 
gathered that no expedition to the Arctic since has given value of equal 



434 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Here an old seal was found. It had been caught 
a year before and cached by Pan-ic-pa, the father of 
E-tuk-i-shook. With it was found a rude drawing 
spotted with sooty tears. This told the story of a lov- 
ing father's fruitless search for his son and friends. 
The seal meat had the aroma of Limburger cheese, and 
age had changed its flavor ; but, with no other food pos- 
sible, our palates were easily satisfied. In an oil-soaked 
bag was found about a pound of salt. We ate this as 
sugar, for no salt had passed over our withered tongues 
for over a year. 

The skin, blubber and meat were devoured with a 
relish. Every eatable part of the animal was packed on 
the sled as we left the American shore. 

Smith Sound was free of ice, and open water ex- 
tended sixty miles northward. A long detour was nec- 
essary to reach the opposite shores, but the Greenland 
shores were temptingly near. With light hearts and 



importance. Greely's published record is an absolute proof of his ability 1 
as a leader and a vindication of the unfair insinuations of later rivals. 

In passing along this same coast, E-tuk-i-shook called my attention to 
several graves, some of which we opened. In other places we saw human 
bones which had been left unburied. They were scattered, and had been 
picked by the ravens, the foxes and the wolves. With a good deal of 
sorrow and reserve I then learned one of the darkest unprinted pages of 
Arctic history. When the steamer Erie returned, in 1901, a large number 
of Eskimos were left with Mr. Peary near Cape Sabine. They soon after 
developed a disease which Mr. Peary's ship brought to them. There 
was no medicine and no doctor to save the dying victims. Dr. T. F. 
Dedrick, who had served Mr. Peary faithfully, was dismissed without the 
payment of his salary, because of a personal grudge, but Dedrick refused 
to go home and leave the expedition without medical help. He remained 
at Etah, living with the Eskimos in underground holes, as wild men do, 
sacrificing comfort and home interests for no other purpose except to 
maintain a clean record of helpfulness. As the winter and the night 
advanced, Dr. Dedrick got news that the Eskimos were sick and 
required medical assistance. He crossed the desperate reaches of Smith 
Sound at night, and offered Mr. Peary medical assistance to save the 
dying natives. Peary refused to allow Dedrick to attempt to cure the 
afflicted, crying people. Dedrick had been' without civilized food for 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 435 

cheering premonitions of home, we pushed along Bache 
Peninsula to a point near Cape Louis Napoleon. The 
horizon was now cleared of trouble. The ascending sun 
had dispelled the winter gloom of the land. Leaping 
streams cut through crystal gorges. The ice moved; 
the sea began to breathe. The snows sparkled with the 
promise of double days and midnight suns. 

Life's buds had opened to full blossom. On the 
opposite shores, which now seemed near, Nature's incu- 
bators had long worked overtime to start the little ones 
of the wilds. Tiny bears danced to their mothers' call; 
baby seals sunned in downy pelts. Little foxes were 
squinting at school in learning the art of sight. In the 
wave of germinating joys our suppressed nocturnal 
passions rose with surprise anew. We were raised to 
an Arctic paradise. 

As it lay in prospect, Greenland had the charm of 
Eden. There were the homes of my savage compan- 
ions. It was a stepping-stone to my home, still very 



months, and was not well himself after the terrible journey over the 
storm-swept seas of ice. Before returning, he asked for some coffee, a 
little sugar and a few biscuits. These Mr. Peary refused him. Dr. Dedrick 
returned. The natives, in fever and pain, died. Theirs are the bones 
scattered by the wild beasts. Who is responsible for these deaths? 

"Peary-tiglipo-aavigaxua" (Peary has stolen the iron stone), was now 
repeated with bitterness by the Eskimos. In 1897 it occurred to Mr. 
Peary that the museums would be interested in the Eskimos, and also in 
the so-called "Star Stone," owned by the Eskimos. It had been passed 
down from generation to generation as a tribal property; from it the 
natives, from the Stone Age, had chipped metal for weapons. This 
"meteorite" was, without Eskimo consent, put by Mr. Peary on his ship; 
without their consent, also, were put a group of men and women and 
children on the ship. All were taken to New York for museum purposes. 
In New York the precious meteorite was sold, but the profits were not 
divided with the rightful owners. The men, women and children (mer- 
chandise of similar value) were placed in a cellar, awaiting a marketplace. 
Before the selling time arrived, all but one died of diseases directly 
arising out of inhuman carelessness, due to the dictates of commercialism. 
Who is responsible for the death of this group of innocent wild folk? 



436 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

far off. It was a land where man has a fighting chance 
for his life. 

In reality, we were now in the most desperate 
throes of the grip of famine which we had encountered 
during all of our hard experience. Greenland was but 
thirty miles away. But we were separated from it by 
impossible open water — a hopeless stormy deep. To 
this moment I do not know why we did not sit down and 
allow the blood to cool with famine and cold. We had 
no good reason to hope that we could cross, but again 
hope — "the stuff that goes to make dreams" — kept our 
eyes open. 

We started. We were as thin as it is possible for 
men to be. The scraps of meat, viscera, and skin of the 
seal, buried for a year, was now our sole diet. We trav- 
eled the first two days northward over savage uplifts of 
hummocks and deep snows, tripping and stumbling over 
blocks of ice like wounded animals. Then we reached 
good, smooth ice, but open water forced us northward, 
ever northward from the cheering cliff s under which our 
Greenland homes and abundant supplies were located. 
No longer necessary to lift the feet, we dragged the ice- 
sheeted boots step after step over smooth young ice. 
This eased our tired, withered legs, and long distances 
were covered. The days were prolonged, the decayed 
seal food ran low, water was almost impossible. Life 
no longer seemed worth living. We had eaten the 
strips of meat and frozen seal cautiously. We had 
eaten other things — our very boots and leather lashings 
as a last resort. 

So weak that we had to climb on hands and knees, 
we reached the top of an iceberg, and from there saw 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 437 

Annoatok. Natives, who had thought us long dead, 
rushed out to greet us. There I met Mr. Harry Whit- 
ney. As I held his hand, the cheer of a long-forgotten 
world came over me. With him I went to my house, 
only to find that during my absence it had been confis- 
cated. A sudden bitterness rose within which it was 
difficult to hide. A warm meal dispelled this for a time. 

In due time I told Whitney: "I have reached the 
Pole." 

Uttering this for the first time in English, it came 
upon me that I was saying a remarkable thing. Yet 
Mr. Whitney showed no great surprise, and his quiet 
congratulation confirmed what was in my mind — that I 
had accomplished no extraordinary or unbelievable 
thing; for to me the Polar experience was not in the 
least remarkable, considered with our later adventures. 

Mr. Whitney, as is now well known, was a sports- 
man from New Haven, Connecticut, who had been 
spending some months hunting in the North. He had 
made Annoatok the base of his operations, and had been 
spending the winter in the house which I had built of 
packing-boxes. 

The world now seemed brighter. The most potent 
factor in this change was food — and more food — a bath 
and another bath — and clean clothes. Mr. Whitney 
offered me unreservedly the hospitality of my own 
camp. He instructed Pritchard to prepare meal after 
meal of every possible dish that our empty stomachs had 
craved for a year. The Eskimo boys were invited to 
share it. 

Between meals, or perhaps we had better call meals 
courses (for it was a continuous all-night perform- 



438 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ance — interrupted by baths and breathing spells to pre- 
vent spasms of the jaws) — between courses, then, there 
were washes with real soap and real cleansing warm 
water, the first that we had felt for fourteen months. 
Mr. Whitney helped to scrape my angular anatomy, 
and he volunteered the information that I was the 
dirtiest man he ever saw. 

From Mr. Whitney I learned that Mr. Peary had 
reached Annoatok about the middle of August, 1908, 
and had placed a boatswain named Murphy, assisted 
by William Pritchard, a cabin boy on the Roosevelt, in 
charge of my stores, which he had seized. Murphy was 
anything but tactful and considerate ; and in addition to 
taking charge of my goods, had been using them in trad- 
ing as money to pay for furs to satisfy Mr. Peary's 
hunger for commercial gain. Murphy went south in 
pursuit of furs after my arrival. 

For the first few days I was too weak to inquire 
into the theft of my camp and supplies. Furthermore, 
with a full stomach, and Mr. Whitney as a warm friend 
at hand, I was indifferent. I was not now in any great 
need. For by using the natural resources of the land, as 
I had done before, it was possible to force a way back 
to civilization from here with the aid of my Eskimo 
friends. 

Little by little, however, the story of that very 
strange "Relief Station for Dr. Cook" was unraveled, 
and I tell it here with no ulterior notion of bitterness 
against Mr. Peary. I forgave him for the practical 
theft of my supplies; but this is a very important part of 
the controversy which followed, a controversy which 
can be understood only by a plain statement of the inci- 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 439 

dents which led up to and beyond this so-called "Relief 
Station for Dr. Cook," which was a relief only in the 
sense that I was relieved of a priceless store of supplies. 

When Mr. Peary heard of the execution of my 
plans to try for the Pole in 1907, and before he left 
on his last expedition, he accused me of various viola- 
tions of what he chose to call "Polar Ethics." No ap- 
plication had been filed by me to seek the Pole. Now I 
was accused of stealing his route, his Pole, and his peo- 
ple. This train of accusations was given to the press, 
and with the greatest possible publicity. A part of this 
was included in an official complaint to the International 
Bureau of Polar Research at Brussels. 

Now, what are Polar ethics? There is no separate 
code for the Arctic. The laws which govern men's 
bearing towards each other in New York are good in 
any part of the world. One cannot be a democrat in 
civilized eyes and an autocrat in the savage world. One 
cannot cry, "Stop thief!" and then steal the thief's 
booty. If you are a member of the brotherhood of 
humanity in one place, you must be in another. In 
short, he who is a gentleman in every sense of the word 
needs no memory for ethics. It is only the modern 
political reformer who has need of the cloak of the 
hypocrisy of ethics to hide his own misdeeds. An ex- 
plorer should not stpop to this. 

Who had the power to grant a license to seek the 
Pole? If you wish to invade the forbidden regions of 
Thibet, or the interior of Siberia, a permit is necessary 
from the governments interested. But the Pole is a 
place no nation owned, by right of discovery, occupa- 
tion, or otherwise. 



440 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

If pushing a ship up the North Atlantic waters to 
the limit of navigation was a trespass on Mr. Peary's 
preserve, then I am bound to plead guilty. But ships 
had gone that way for a hundred years before Mr. 
Peary developed a Polar claim. If I am guilty, then 
he is guilty of stealing the routes of Davis, Kane, 
Greely and a number of others. But as I view the sit- 
uation, a modern explorer should take a certain pride 
in the advantages afforded by his worthy predecessors. 
I take a certain historic delight in having followed the 
routes of the early pathfinders to a more remote destina- 
tion. This indebtedness and this honor I do now, as 
heretofore, acknowledge. The charge that I stole Mr. 
Peary's route is incorrect. For, from the limit of navi- 
gation on the Greenland side, my track was forced over 
a land which, although under Mr. Peary's eyes for 
twenty years, was explored by Sverdrup, who got the 
same unbrotherly treatment from Mr. Peary which he 
has shown to every explorer who has had the misfortune 
to come within the circle he has drawn about an imagin- 
ary private preserve. 

The charge of borrowing Peary's ideas, by which 
is meant the selection of food and supplies and the adop- 
tion of certain methods of travel, is equally unfounded. 
For Mr. Peary's weakest chain is his absolute lack of 
system, order, preparation or originality. This is 
commented upon by the men of every one of his previ- 
ous expeditions. Mr. Peary early charged that my 
system of work and my methods of travel were borrowed 
from him. This was not true; but when he later, in a 
desperate effort to say unkind things, said that my sys- 
tem — the system borrowed from himself — -was ineffi- 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE Ul 

cient, the charge becomes laughable. As to the Pole — 
if Mr. Peary has a prior hen on it — it is there still. We 
did not take it away. We simply left our foot- 
prints there. 

Now as to the charge of using Mr. Peary's sup- 
plies and his people — by assuming a private preserve of 
all the reachable Polar wilderness of this section, he 
might put up a plausible claim to it as a private hunt- 
ing ground. If this claim is good, then I am guilty of 
trespass. But it was only done to satisfy the pangs of 
hunger. 

This claim of the ownership of the animals of the 
unclaimed North might be put with plausible excuses 
to The Hague Tribunal. But it is a claim no serious 
person would consider. The same claim of ownership, 
however, cannot be said of human life. 

The Eskimos are a free and independent people. 
They acknowledge no chiefs among themselves and 
submit to no outside dictators. They are likely to 
call an incoming stranger "nalegaksook," which the 
vanity of the early travelers interpreted as the "great 
chief." But the intended interpretation is "he who has 
much to barter" or "the great trader." This is what 
they call Mr. Peary. The same compliment is given to 
other traders, whalers or travelers with whom they do 
business. Despite his claims Mr. Peary has been re- 
garded as no more of a benefactor than any other 
explorer. 

After delivering, early in 1907, an unreasonable 
and uncalled for attack, Mr. Peary, two months after 
the Pole had been reached by me, went North 
with two ships, with all the advantage that unlimited 



44S MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

funds and influential friends could give. At about the 
same time my companion, Rudolph Francke, started 
south under my instructions, and he locked my box- 
house at Annoatok wherein were stored supplies suffi- 
cient for two years or more. 

The key was entrusted to a trustworthy Eskimo. 
Under his protection this precious life-saving supply 
was safe for an indefinite time. With it no relief ex- 
pedition or help from the outside world was necessary. 

Francke had a hard time as he pushed southward, 
with boat and sledge. Moving supplies to the limit of 
his carrying capacity, he fought bravely against storms, 
broken ice and thundering seas. The route proved all 
but impossible, but at last his destination at North Star 
was reached, only for him to find that he was too late 
for the whalers he had expected. Impossible to return 
to our northern camp at that time, and having used all 
of his civilized food en route, he was now compelled to 
accept the hospitality of the natives, in their unhygienic 
dungeons. For food there was nothing but the semi- 
putrid meat and blubber eaten by the Eskimos. 
After a long and desperate task by boat and sled he 
returned to Etah but he was absolutely unable to pro- 
ceed farther. Francke's health failed rapidly and when, 
as he thought, the time had arrived to lay down and quit 
fife, a big prosperous looking ship came into the harbor. 
He had not tasted civilized food for months, and longed, 
as only a sick, hungry man can, for coffee and bread. 

Almost too weak to arise from his couch of stones, 
he mustered up enough strength to stumble over the 
rails of that ship of plenty. After gathering sufficient 
breath to speak, he asked for bread and coffee. It was 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 443 

breakfast time. No answer came to that appeal. He 
was put off the ship. He went back to his cheerless 
cave and prayed that death might close his eyes to 
further trouble. Somewhat later, when it was learned 
that there was a house and a large store of supplies at 
Annoatok, and that the man had in his possession furs 
and ivory valued at $10,000, there was a change of heart 
in Mr. Peary. Francke was called on board, was given 
bread and coffee and whiskey. Too weak to resist, he 
was bullied and frightened, and forced under duress to 
sign papers which he did not understand. To get home 
to him meant life ; to remain meant death. And the ship 
before him was thus his only chance for life. Under the 
circumstances he would naturally have put his name to 
any paper placed under his feeble eyes. But the law of 
no land would enforce such a document. 

In this way Mr. Peary compelled him to turn over 
$10,000 worth of furs and ivory, besides my station and 
supplies, worth at least $35,000, which were not his to 
turn over. The prized ivory tusks and furs were im- 
mediately seized and sent back on the returning ship. 

One of the narwhal tusks, worth to me at least 
$1,000, was polished and sent as Peary's trophy to 
President Roosevelt. Under the circumstances has not 
the President been made the recipient of stolen goods? 

When Francke, as a passenger, returned on the 
Peary supply ship, Erie, a bill of one hundred dollars 
was presented for his passage. This bill was presum- 
ably the bill for the full cost of his return. But the 
priceless furs and ivory trophies were confiscated with- 
out a murmur of conscious wrongdoing. This is what 
happened as the ship went south. 



444 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Now let us follow the ship Roosevelt in its piratic 
career northward. With Mr. Peary as chief it got to 
Etah. From there instructions were given to seize my 
house and supplies. This was done over the signature 
of Mr. Peary to a paper which started out with the 
following shameless hypocrisy: 

"This is a relief station for Dr. Cook." 

According to Mr. Whitney even Captain Bartlett 
quivered with indignation at the blushing audacity of 
this steal. The stores were said to be abandoned. The 
men, with Peary's orders, went to Koo-loo-ting-wah and 
forced from him the key with which to open the care- 
fully guarded stores. The house was reconstructed. 

Murphy, a rough Newfoundland bruiser, who had 
been accustomed to kick sailors, was placed in charge 
with autocratic powers. Murphy could neither read 
nor write, but he was given a long letter of instruction 
to make a trading station of my home and to use my 
supplies. 

Now if Mr. Peary required my supplies for legiti- 
mate exploration I should have been glad to give him 
my last bread; but to use my things to satisfy his greed 
for commercial gain was, when I learned it, bitter 
medicine. 

Because Murphy could not write, Pritchard was 
left with him to read the piratic instructions once each 
week. Pritchard was also to keep account of the furs 
bought and the prices paid— mostly in my coin. Mur- 
phy soon forbade the reading of the instructions, and 
also stopped the stock-taking and bookkeeping. The 
hypocrisy of the thing seemed to pinch even Murphy's 
narrow brain. 



HOMEWARD WITH A HALF SLEDGE 445 

This same deliberate Murphy, accustomed to lif e in 
barracks, held the whip for a year over the head of Harry 
Whitney, a man of culture and millions. Money, how- 
ever, was of no use there. Audacity and self -assumed 
power, it seems, ruled as it did in times of old when 
buccaneers deprived their victims of gold, and walked 
them off a plank into the briny deep. 

Murphy and Pritchard, the paid traders, fixed 
themselves cosily in my camp. Mr. Whitney had been 
invited as a guest to stay and hunt for his own pleasure. 
The party lived for a year at my expense, but the lot of 
Whitney was very hard as an invited guest, a privilege 
for which I was told he had paid Mr. Peary two thous- 
and dollars or more. His decision to stay had come only 
after a disappointment in a lack of success of hunting 
during the summer season. He was, therefore, ill- 
provided for the usual Polar hardships. With no food, 
and no adequate clothing of his own, he was dependent 
on the dictates of Murphy to supply him. As time 
went on, the night with its awful cold advanced. Mur- 
phy gathered in all the furs ard absolutely prohibited 
Whitney from getting suitable furs for winter clothing. 
He, therefore, shivered throughout the long winter in 
his sheepskin shooting outfit. Several times he was at 
the point of a hand-to-hand encounter with Murphy, 
but with young Pritchard as a friend and gentlemanly 
instincts to soften his manner, he grit his teeth and 
swallowed the insults. 

His ambition for a hunting trip was frustrated 
because it interfered with Murphy's plans for trading in 
skins. The worst and most brutal treatment was the 
almost inconceivable cruelty of his not allowing Mr. 



446 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Whitney enough food for a period of months, not even 
of my supplies, although this food was used eventually 
to feed useless dogs. 

All of this happened under Mr. Peary's authority, 
and under the coarse, swaggering Murphy, whom Mr. 
Peary, in his hook, calls "a thoroughly trustworthy 
man!" Mr. Peary's later contention, in a hypocritical 
effort to clear himself (see "The North Pole," page 76) 
that he placed Murphy in charge "to prevent the 
Eskimos from looting the supplies and equipment left 
there by Dr. Cook," is a mean, petty and unworthy slur 
upon a brave, loyal people, among whom thievery is a 
thing unknown. Unknown, yes, save when white men 
without honor, without respect for property or the 
ethics of humanity, which the Eskimos instinctively 
have, invade their region and rob them and fellow ex- 
plorers with the brazenness of middle-aged buccaneers. 



ANNOATOK TO UPEKNAVIK 

ELEVEN HUNDRED MILES SOUTHWARD OVER SEA AND 

LAND AT ETAH OVERLAND TO THE WALRUS 

GROUNDS — ESKIMO COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES — A 

RECORD RUN OVER MELVILLE BAY FIRST NEWS FROM 

PASSING SHIPS THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN SOUTH- 
WARD BY STEAMER GODTHAAB 

XXX 

Along Danish Greenland 

A few interesting days were spent with Mr. Whit- 
ney at Annoatok. The Eskimos, in the meantime, had 
all gone south to the walrus hunting grounds at Nuerke. 
Koo-loo-ting-wah came along with a big team of dogs. 
Here was an opportunity to attempt to reach the Danish 
settlements — for to get home quickly was now my all- 
absorbing aim. Koo-loo-ting-wah was in my service. 
He was guarding my supplies in 1908 when the ship 
Roosevelt had come along. He had been compelled to 
give up the key to my box-house. He had been engaged 
to place supplies for us and search the American shores 
for our rescue. Peary, making a pretended "Relief 
Station," forced Koo-loo-ting-wah from his position as 
guardian of my supplies, and forbade him to engage in 
any effort to search for us, and absolutely prohibited 



448 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

him and everybody else, including Murphy, Prichard 
and Whitney, from engaging in any kind of succor at a 
time when help was of consequence. Koo-loo-ting-wah 
was liberally paid to abandon my interests (by Mr. 
Peary's orders, from my supplies), but, like Bartlett 
and Whitney and Prichard later, he condemned Mr. 
Peary for his unfair acts. When asked to join me in 
the long journey to Upernavik, he said, "Peari an- 
nutu" (Peary will be mad.) Koo-loo-ting-wah was 
now in Peary's service at my expense, and I insisted that 
he enter my service, which he did. Then we began our 
preparations for the southern trip. 

Accompanied by Whitney, I went to Etah, and for 
this part of the journey Murphy grudgingly gave me a 
scant food supply for a week, for which I gave him a 
memorandum. This memorandum was afterwards 
published by Mr. Peary as a receipt, so displayed as to 
convey the idea that all the stolen supplies had been 
replaced. 

At Etah was a big cache which had been left a 
year before by Captain Bernier, the commander of a 
northern expedition sent out by the Canadian Gov- 
ernment, and which had been placed in charge 
of Mr. Whitney. In this cache were food, new equip- 
ment, trading material, and clean underclothes which 
Mrs. Cook had sent on the Canadian expedition. With 
this new store of suitable supplies, I now completed my 
equipment for the return to civilization.* 



*These supplies had, fortunately, been left in the care of Mr. Whitney. 
In the months that followed, Murphy several times threatened to take 
these things, but Whitney's sense of justice was such that no further 
pilfering was allowed. 

The unbrotherly tactics which Mr. Peary had shown to Sverdrup and 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 449 

To get home quickly, I concluded, could be done 
best by going to the Danish settlements in Greenland, 
seven hundred miles south, and thence to Europe by an 
early steamer. From Upernavik mail is carried in 
small native boats to Umanak, where there is direct 
communication with Europe by government steamers. 
By making this journey, and taking a fast boat to 
America, I calculated I could reach New York in early 
July. 

Mr. Whitney expected the Erik to arrive to take 
him south in the following August. Going, as he 
planned, into Hudson Bay, he expected to reach New 
York in October. Although this would be the easiest 
and safest way to reach home, by the route I had planned 
I hoped to reach New York four months earlier than the 
Erik would. 

The journey from Etah to Upernavik is about 
seven hundred miles — a journey as long and nearly as 
difficult as the journey to the North Pole. I knew it 
involved difficulties and risks — the climbing of moun- 
tains and glaciers, the crossing of open leads of water 
late in the season, when the ice is in motion and snow is 
falling, and the dragging of sledges through slush and 
water. 

Mr. Whitney, in view of these dangers, offered to 

other explorers were here copied by his representative. Captain Bernier 
was bound for the American coast, to explore and claim for Canada the 
land to the west. He desired a few native helpers. There were at Etah 
descendants of Eskimo emigrants from the very land which Bernier 
aimed to explore. These men were anxious to return to their fathers' 
land, and would have made splendid guides for Bernier. Murphy volun- 
teered to ask the Eskimos if they would go. He went ashore, pretending 
that he would try to secure guides, but, in reality, he never asked a single 
Eskimo to join Bernier. Returning, he said that no one would go. Later 
he boasted to Whitney and Prichard of the intelligent way in which he 
had deceived Captain Bernier. Was this under Mr. Peary's instructions? 



450 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

take care of my instruments, notebooks and flag, and 
take them south on his ship. I knew that if any food 
were lost on my journey it might be replaced by game. 
Instruments lost in glaciers or open seas could not be 
replaced. The instruments, moreover, had served their 
purposes. The corrections, notes, and other data were 
also no longer needed ; all my observations had been re- 
duced, and the corrections were valuable only for a 
future re-examination. This is why I did not take them 
with me. It is customary, also, to leave corrections with 
instruments. 

In the box which I gave to Mr. Whitney were 
packed one French sextant; one surveying compass, 
aluminum, with azimuth attachment ; one artificial hori- 
zon, set in a thin metal frame adjusted by spirit levels 
and thumbscrews; one aneroid barometer, aluminum; 
one aluminum case with maximum and minimum spirit 
thermometer; other thermometers, and also one liquid 
compass. All of these I had carried with me. 

Besides these were left other instruments used about 
the relief station. There were papers giving instru- 
mental corrections, readings, comparisons, and other 
notes; a small diary, mostly of loose leaves, containing 
some direct field readings, and meteorological data. 
These were packed in one of the instrument cases. By 
special request of Mr. Whitney, I also left my flag. 

In addition, I placed in Mr. Whitney's charge sev- 
eral big cases of clothing and supplies which Mrs. 
Cook had sent, also ethnological collections, furs, and 
geological specimens. In one of these boxes were 
packed the instrument cases and notes. 

Mr. Whitney's plans later were changed. His 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 451 

ship, the Erik, not having arrived when Peary returned, 
Whitney arranged with Peary to come back to civiliza- 
tion on the latter's ship, the Roosevelt. As I learned 
afterwards, when the Roosevelt arrived Mr. Whitney 
took from one of my packing boxes my instruments and 
packed them in his trunk. He was, however, pro- 
hibited from carrying my things, and all my belong- 
ings were consequently left at the mercy of the weather 
and the natives in far-off Greenland. I have had no 
means of hearing from them since, so that I do not 
know what has became of them. 

About Etah and Annoatok and on my eastward 
journey few notes were made. As well as I can remem- 
ber, I left Annoatok some time during the third week of 
April. On leaving Whitney, I promised to send him 
dogs and guides for his prospective hunting trip. I also 
promised to get for him furs for a suitable winter suit — 
because, according to Mr. Peary's autocratic methods, 
he had been denied the privilege of trading for himself. 
He was not allowed to gather trophies, or to purchase 
absolutely necessary furs, nor was he accorded the cour- 
tesy of arranging for guides and dogs with the natives 
for his ambition to get big game. All of this I was to 
arrange for Whitney as I passed the villages farther 
south. 

In crossing by the overland route, over Crystal 
Palace Glacier to Sontag Bay, we were caught in a vio- 
lent gale, which buried us in drifts on the highlands. 
Descending to the sea, we entered a new realm of 
coming summer joys. 

Moving along to Neurke, we found a big snow- 
house village. All had gathered for the spring walrus 



453 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

chase. Many animals had been caught, and the hunt- 
ers were in a gluttonous stupor from continued over- 
feeding. It was not long before we, too, filled up, and 
succumbed to similar pleasures. 

My boys were here, and the principal pastime was 
native gossip about the North Pole. 

Arriving among their own people here, Ah-we-lah 
and E-tuk-i-shook recounted their remarkable journey. 
They had, of course, no definite idea of where they had 
been, but told of the extraordinary journey of seven 
moons; of their reaching a place where there was no 
game and no life; of their trailing over the far-off seas 
where the sun did not dip at night, and of their hunting, 
on our return, with slingshots, string traps, and arrows. 
These were their strong and clear impressions.* 



*I now learned, also, that the Eskimos had told their tribesmen of 
their arrival at the mysterious "Big Nail," which, of course, meant less 
to them than the hardship and unique methods of hunting. 

Among themselves the Eskimos have an intimate way of conveying 
things, a method of expression and meaning which an outsider never grasps. 
At most, white men can understand only a selected and more simple lan- 
guage with which the Eskimos convey their thoughts. This partly accounts 
for the unreliability of any testimony which a white man extracts from them. 
There is also to be considered an innate desire on the part of these simple 
people to answer any question in a manner which they think will please. 
In all Indian races this desire to please is notoriously stronger than a 
sense of truth. The fact that my Eskimos, when later questioned as to 
my whereabouts, are reported to have answered that I had not gone far 
out of sight of land, was due partly to my instructions and partly to this 
inevitable wish to answer in a pleasing way. 

While they spoke among themselves of having reached the "Big Nail," 
they also said — what they later repeated to Mr. Peary — that they had 
passed few days beyond the sight of land, a delusion caused by mirages, 
In which, to prevent any panic, I had with good intentions encouraged 
an artificial belief in a nearness to land. 

But we were for weeks enshrouded in dense fogs, where nothing could 
be seen. The natives everywhere had heard of this, and inquired about it. 
Why has Mr. Peary suppressed this important information? We traveled 
and camped on the pack for "seven moons." Why was this omitted? We 
reached a place where the sun did not dip at night; where there was not 
enough difference in the height of the day and night sun to give the 
Eskimo his usual sense of direction. Why was this fact ignored? 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 453 

From Neurke we crossed Murchison Sound, along 
the leads where the walrus was being hunted, and from 
there we set a course for the eastern point of Northum- 
berland Island. 

We next entered Inglefield Gulf. Our party had 
grown. Half of the natives were eager to join us on a 
pilgrimage to the kindly and beloved Danes of Southern 
Greenland; but, because of the advancing season, the 
marches must be forced, and because a large sled train 
hinders rapid advancement, I reduced the numbers 
and changed the personnel of my party as better helpers 
offered services. 

From a point near Itiblu we ascended the blue 
slopes of a snow-free glacier, and after picking a dan- 
gerous footing around precipitous cliffs, we rose to the 
clouds and deep snows of the inland ice. Here, for 
twenty-four hours, we struggled through deep snow, 
with only the wind to give direction to our trail. De- 
scending from this region of perpetual mist and storm, 
we came down to the sea in Booth Sound. From here, 
after a good rest, over splendid ice, in good weather, we 
entered Wolstenholm Sound at Oomonoi. There was 
a large gathering of natives, and among these we 
rested and fed up in preparation for the long, haz- 
ardous trip which lay before us. 

In this locality, the Danish Literary Expedition, 
under the late Mylius Ericksen, had wintered. Their 
forced march northward from Uppernavik proved so 
desperate that they were unable to carry important 
necessaries. 

But the natives, with characteristic generosity, had 
supplied the Danes with the meat for food and the fat 



454. MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

for fuel, which kept them alive during dangerous and 
trying times.* 

We now started for Cape York. My-ah, Ang-ad- 
loo and I-o-ko-ti were accepted as permanent members 
of my party. All of this party was, curiously enough, 
hostile to Mr. Peary, and the general trend of conversa- 
tion was a bitter criticism of the way the people had been 
fleeced of furs and ivory; how a party had been left to 
die of cold and hunger at Fort Conger; how, at Cape 
Sabine, many died of a sickness which had been brought 
among them, and how Dr. Dedrick was not allowed to 
save their lives ; how a number had been torn from their 
homes and taken to New York, where they had died of 
barbarous ill-treatment; how their great "Iron Stone," 
their only source of iron for centuries, the much-prized 
heritage of their nation, had been stolen from the point 
we were now nearing; and so on, throughout a long line 
of other abuses. But, at the time, all of this bitterness 
seemed to soften my own resentment, and I began to 
cherish a forgiving spirit toward Mr. Peary. After all, 
thought I, I have been successful; let us have an end of 
discord and seek a brighter side of life. 

Now I began to think for the first time of the public 
aspect of my homegoing. Heretofore my anticipations 
had been centered wholly in the joys of a family reunion, 
but now the thought was slowly forced as to the attitude 

* In appreciation of this kind helpfulness, the Danes later sent a 
special ship loaded with presents, which were left for distribution among 
the good-natured Eskimos who had helped Ericksen. Mr. Peary came along 
after the Danes had turned their backs, and picked from the Danish pres- 
ents such things as appealed to his fancy, thus depriving the Eskimos of 
the merited return for their kindness. What right had Mr. Peary to 
take these things? The Danes, who have since placed a mission station 
here, in continuation of their policy to guard and protect the Eskimos, are 
awaiting an answer to this question to-day. 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 453 

which others would take towards me. In the wildest 
flights of my imagination I never dreamed of any 
world-wide interest in the Pole. Again I desire to 
emphasize the fact that every movement I have made 
disproves the allegation that I planned to perpetrate a 
gigantic fraud upon the world. Men had been seeking 
the North Pole for years, and at no time had any of 
these many explorers aroused any general interest in 
his expedition or the results. 

Millions of money, hundreds of lives, had been sac- 
rificed. The complex forces of great nations had been 
arrayed unsuccessfully. I had believed the thing could 
be done by simpler methods, without the sacrifice of 
life, without using other people's money; and, with this 
conviction, had gone north. I now came south, with no 
expectations of reward except such as would come from 
a simple success in a purely private undertaking. 

I wish to emphasize that I regarded my entire ex- 
perience as something purely personal. I supposed 
that the newspapers would announce my return, and 
that there would be a three days' breath of attention, and 
that that would be all. So far as I was personally con- 
cerned, my chief thought was one of satisfaction at hav- 
ing satisfied myself, and an intense longing for home. 

We camped at Cape York. Before us was the 
great white expanse of Melville Bay to the distant 
Danish shores. Few men had ever ventured over this. 
What luck was in store for us could not be guessed. 
But we were ready for every emergency. We moved 
eastward to an island where the natives greeted us with 
enthusiasm, and then we started over treacherous ice 
southward. The snow was not deep; the ice proved 



456 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

fairly smooth. The seals, basking in the new summer 
sun, augmented our supplies. Frequent bear tracks 
added the spirit of the chase, which doubled our speed. 
In two days we had the "Devil's Thumb" to our left, and 
at the end of three and a half days the cheer of Danish 
cliffs and semi-civilized Eskimos came under our eyes. 

The route from Annoatok to this point, following 
the circuitous twists over sea and land, was almost as 
long as that from Annoatok to the Pole, but we had cov- 
ered it in less than a month. With a record march 
across Melville Bay, we had crossed a long line of trou- 
ble, in which Mylius Ericksen and his companions nearly 
succumbed after weeks of frosty torture. We had done 
it in a few days, and in comfort, with the luxury of 
abundant food gathered en route. 

Behind the Danish archipelago, traveling was good 
and safe. As we went along, from village to village, 
the Eskimos told the story of the Polar conquest. Rap- 
idly we pushed along to Tassuasak, which we reached 
in the middle of May. This is one of the small trading 
posts belonging to the district of Upernavik. 

At Tassuasak I met Charles Dahl, a congenial 
Danish official, with whom I stayed a week. He spoke 
only Danish, which I did not understand. Despite the 
fact that our language was unintelligible, we talked until 
two or three o'clock in the morning, somehow conveying 
our thoughts, and when he realized what I told him he 
took my hand, offering warm, whole-souled Norse 
appreciation. 

Here I secured for Mr. Whitney tobacco and other 
needed supplies. For the Eskimos, various presents 
were bought, all of which were packed on the returning 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 457 

sleds. Then the time arrived to bid the final adieu to 
my f aithf til wild men of the Far North. Tears took the 
place of words in that parting. 

By sledge and oomiak (skin boat) I now continued 
my journey to Upernavik. 

Upernavik is one of the largest Danish settle- 
ments in Greenland and one of the most important trad- 
ing posts. It is a small town with a population of about 
three hundred Eskimos, who live in box-shaped huts of 
turf. The town affords residence for about six Danish 
officials, who five, with their families, in comfortable 
houses. 

I reached there early one morning about May 20, 
1909, and went at once to the house of Governor Kraul. 
The governor himself — a tall, bald-headed, dignified 
man, a bachelor, about fifty years of age, of genial man- 
ner and considerable literary and scientific attain- 
ments — answered my knock on the door. He admitted 
me hospitably, and then looked me over from head to 
foot. 

I was a hard-looking visitor. I wore an old seal- 
skin coat, worn bearskin trousers, stockings of hareskin 
showing above torn seal boots. I was reasonably dirty. 
My face was haggard and bronzed, my hair was uncut, 
long and straggling. However, I felt reassured in a 
bath and clean underclothing secured a week before at 
Tassuasak. Later these clothes were replaced by new 
clothes given me by Governor Kraul, some of which I 
wore on my trip to Copenhagen. My appearance was 
such that I was not surprised by the governor's ques- 
tion : "Have you any lice on you ?" 

Some years before he had entertained some Arctic 



458 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

pilgrims, and a peculiar breed of parasites remained 
to plague the village for a long time. I convinced him 
that, in spite of my unprepossessing appearance, he 
was safe in sheltering me. 

At his house I had all the luxuries of a refined home 
with a large library at my disposal. I had also a large, 
comfortable feather-bed with clean sheets. I slept for 
hours every day, devoting about four or five hours to 
my work on my notes. 

At breakfast I told Governor Kraul briefly of my 
journey, and although he was polite and pleasant, I 
could see that he was skeptical as to my having reached 
the Pole. I remained with him a month, using his pens 
and paper putting the finishing touches on my narra- 
tive — on which I had done much work at Cape Sparbo. 
My notes and papers were scattered about, and Gov- 
ernor Kraul read them, and as he read them his doubts 
were dispelled and he waxed enthusiastic. 

Governor Kraul had had no news of the inside 
world for about a year. He was as anxious as I was for 
letters and papers. I went over his last year's news 
with a good deal of interest. While thus engaged, early 
one foggy morning, a big steamer came into port. It 
was the steam whaler Morning of Dundee. Her master, 
Captain Adams, came ashore with letters and news. He 
recited the remarkable journey of Shackleton to the 
South Pole as his opening item in the cycle of the year's 
incidents. After that he gave it as his opinion that 
England had become Americanized in its politics, and 
after recounting the year's luck in whaling, sealing and 
fishing, he then informed me that from America the 
greatest news was the success Of "The Merry Widow" 




GOVERNOR KRAUL IN HIS STUDY 
ARRIVAL AT UPERNAVIK 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 459 

and "The Dollar Princess." I was invited aboard to 
eat the first beefsteak and first fresh civilized food that 
I had eaten in two years. I then told him of my Polar 
conquest. He was keenly interested in my story, all 
of my reports seeming to confirm his own preconceived 
ideas of conditions about the Pole. When I went ashore 
I took a present of a bag of potatoes. To Governor 
Kraul and myself these potatoes proved to be the great- 
est delicacy, for to both the flavor and real fresh, mealy 
potatoes gave our meals the finishing touches of a fine 
dessert. 

I gave Captain Adams some information about new 
hunting grounds which, as he left, he said would be 
tried.* 

Life at Upernavik was interesting. Among other 
things, we noted the total eclipse of the sun on June 17. 
According to our time, it began in the evening at 
eighteen minutes past seven and ended ten minutes after 
nine. 

For a number of days the natives had looked with 
anxiety upon the coming of the mysterious darkness 
attending the eclipse, for now we were in a land of 
anxiety and uneasiness. It was said that storms would 
follow each other, displaying the atmospheric rage ; that 



*When Captain Adams arrived off the haunts of the northernmost 
Eskimos, he sent ashore a letter to be passed along to Mr. Peary, as he 
was expected to return south during that summer. In his letter Captain 
Adams told of my attainment of the Pole. The letter got into Mr. 
Peary's hands before he returned to Labrador. With this letter in his 
pocket, Mr. Peary gave as his principal reason for doubting my success 
that nobody else had been told that I had reached the Pole. I told Whit- 
ney, I had told Pritchard — thus Peary's charge was proven false later. But 
why did he suppress the information which Captain Adams' letter con- 
tained? With this letter in his pocket, why did Mr. Peary say that no 
one had been told? * . 



460 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

seals could not be sought, and that all good people should 
pray. Although a violent southwest gale did rush by, 
the last days before the eclipse were clear and warm. 

Governor Kraul suggested a camp on the high 
rocks east. Mr. Anderson, the governor's assistant, and 
I joined in the expedition. We took smoked and amber 
glasses, a pen and paper, a camera and field glasses. A 
little disk was cut out of the northern side of the sun 
before we started. There was no wind, and the sky was 
cloudless. A better opportunity could not have been 
afforded. It had been quite warm. The chirp of the 
snow bunting and the buzz of bees gave the first joyous 
rebound of the short Arctic summer. Small sand-flies 
rose in clouds, and the waters glittered with midsummer 
incandescence. Small groups of natives, in gorgeous 
attire, gathered in many places, and occasionally took 
a sly glance at the sun as if something was about to 
happen. They talked in muffled undertones. 

When one-third of the sun's disk was obscured it 
was impossible to see the cut circle with the unprotected 
eye. It grew perceptibly dark. The natives quieted 
and moved toward the church. The birds ceased to 
sing; the flies sank to the ground. With the failing 
light the air quickly chilled, the bright contour of the 
land blurred, the deep blue of the sea faded to a dull 
purple-blue seemingly lighter, but the midday splendor 
of high lights and shadows was lost. The burning glitter 
of the waters under the sun now quickly changed to a 
silvery glow. The alabaster and ultramarine blue of 
the icebergs was veiled in gray. 

When a thread of light spread the cut out, we knew 
that the total eclipse was over. In what seemed like a 



ANNOATOK TO UPERNAVIK 461 

few seconds the gloom of night brightened to the sparkle 
of noon. 

At the darkest time the natives had called for open 
church doors, and a sense of immediate danger came over 
the savage horizon with the force of a panic. A single 
star was visible for about a minute before and after the 
total eclipse. A slight salmon flush remained along the 
western horizon; otherwise the sky varied in tones of 
purple-blue. 

After the sea had brightened to its normal luster, 
Governor Kraul gave the entire native settlement a 
feast of figs. 

About June 20, the Danish supply ship, Godihaab, 
with Captain Henning Shoubye in command, arrived 
from South Greenland. Inspector Dougaard Jensen 
and Handelschef Weche were aboard on a tour of 
inspection along the Danish settlements. A corps of 
scientific observers were also aboard. Among these 
were Professors Thompsen and Steensby and Dr. 
Krabbe. Governor Kraul asked me to accompany him 
aboard the Godthaab. Thus I first met this group of 
men, who afterwards did so much to make my journey 
southward to Copenhagen interesting and agreeable. 
The Governor told them of the conquest of the Pole. 
At the time their interest in the news was not very 
marked, but later every phase of the entire trip was 
thoroughly discussed. 

In a few days the Godthaab sailed from Upernavik 
to Umanak, and I took passage on her. Captain Shou- 
bye quietly and persistently questioned me as to details 
of my trip. Apparently he became convinced that I 
was stating facts, for when we arrived at Umanak, the 



462 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

social metropolis of North Greenland, the people enthu- 
siastically received me, having been informed of my feat 
by the captain. 

After coaling at a place near Umanak we started 
south. 

At the "King's Guest House" in Eggedesminde, 
the only hotel in Greenland, I met Dr. Norman-Han- 
sen, a scientist, with whom I talked. He questioned 
me, and a fraternal confidence was soon established. 

Later the Godthaab, which took the missionary 
expedition to the northernmost Eskimo settlement at 
North Star Bay and then returned, arrived from Cape 
York with Knud Rassmussen and other Danes aboard- 
They had a story that my two Eskimos had said I had 
taken them to the "Big Nail." 



FROM GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 

FOREWARNING OF THE POLAR CONTROVERSY BANQUET 

AT EGGEDESMINDE ON BOARD THE HANS EGEDE 

• — CABLEGRAMS SENT FROM LERWICK THE OVATION 

AT COPENHAGEN BEWILDERED AMIDST THE GEN- 
ERAL ENTHUSIASM PEARY'S FIRST MESSAGES 

EMBARK ON OSCAR II FOR NEW YORK 

XXXI 

At the Danish Metropolis 

At Eggedesminde was given the first banquet in 
my honor. At the table were about twenty people. 
Knud Rassmussen, the writer, among others spoke. In 
an excited talk in Danish, mixed with English and Ger- 
man, he foretold the return of Mr. Peary and prophesied 
discord. This made little impression at the time and 
was recalled only by later events. 

At this point I wish to express my gratitude and 
appreciation of the universal courtesy of which I was the 
recipient at every Danish settlement in my southward 
progress along the coast of Greenland. 

At Eggedesminde Inspector Daugaard- Jensen en- 
deavored to secure an idle walrus schooner for me. By 
this I hoped to get to Labrador and thence to New 
York, This involved considerable official delay, and I 



464 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

estimated I could make better time by going to Copen- 
hagen on the Hans Egede. Although every berth on 
this boat, when it arrived, was engaged, Inspector 
Daugaard-Jensen, with the same characteristic kind- 
ness and courtesy shown me by all the Danes, secured 
for me comfortable quarters. 

On board were a number of scientific men and 
Danish correspondents. As the story of my quest had 
spread along the Greenland coast, and as conflicting 
reports might be sent out, Inspector Daugaard-Jensen 
suggested that I cable a first account to the world. 

The anxiety of the newspaper correspondents on 
board gave me the idea that my story might have con- 
siderable financial value. I was certainly in need of 
money. I had only forty or fifty dollars and I needed 
clothing and money for my passage from Copenhagen 
to New York. 

The suggestions and assistance of Inspector Dau- 
gaard-Jensen were very helpful. Iceland and the Faroe 
Islands, frequent ports of call for the Danish steamers, 
because of a full passenger list and the absence of com- 
mercial needs, were not visited by the Hans Egede on 
this return trip. The captain decided to put into Ler- 
wick, in the Shetland Islands, so that I could send my 
message. 

I prepared a story of about 2,000 words, and 
went ashore at Lerwick. No one but myself and a rep- 
resentative of the captain was allowed to land. We 
swore the cable operator to secrecy, sent several official 
and private messages, and one to James Gordon Ben- 
nett briefly telling of my discovery. As the operator re- 
fused to be responsible for the press message, it was 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 465 

left with the Danish consul. To Mr. Bennett I cabled: 
"Message left in care of Danish consul, 2,000 words. 
For it $3,000 expected. If you want it, send for it." 

Our little boat pulled back to the Hans Egede, and 
the ship continued on her journey to Copenhagen. Two 
days passed. On board we talked of my trip as quite a 
commonplace thing. I made some appointments for a 
short stay in Copenhagen. 

Off the Skaw, the northernmost point of Den- 
mark, a Danish man-of-war came alongside us. There 
was a congratulatory message from the Minister of 
State. This greatly surprised me. 

Meanwhile a motor boat puffed over the unsteady 
sea and a half dozen seasick newspaper men, looking 
like wet cats, jumped over the rails. They had been 
permitted to board on the pretext that they had a mes- 
sage from the American Minister, Dr. Egan. I took 
them to my cabin and asked whether the New York 
Herald had printed my cable. The correspondent of the 
Potitiken drew out a Danish paper in which I recog- 
nized the story. I talked with the newspaper men for 
five minutes and my prevailing impression was that they 
did not know what they wanted. They told me Fleet 
Street had moved to Copenhagen. I confess all of this 
seemed foolish at the time. 

They told me that dinners and receptions awaited 
me at Copenhagen. That puzzled me, and when I 
thought of my clothes I became distressed. I wore a 
dirty, oily suit. I had only one set of clean linen and 
one cap. After consulting with the Inspector we 
guessed at my measurements, and a telegram was writ- 
ten to a tailor at Copenhagen to have some clothing 



466 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

ready for me. At Elsinore cables began to arrive, and 
thence onward I became a helpless leaf on a whirlwind 
of excitement. I let the people about plan and think 
for me, and had a say in nothing. A cable from Mr. 
Bennett saying that he had never paid $3,000 so will- 
ingly gave me pleasure. There was relief in this, too, 
for my expenses at the hotel in Eggedesminde and on 
the Hans Egede were unpaid. 

At Elsinore many people came aboard with whom 
I shook hands and muttered inanities in response to 
congratulations. Reporters who were not seasick 
thronged the ship, each one insisting on a special inter- 
view. Why should I be interviewed? It seemed silly 
to make such a fuss. 

Cablegrams and letters piled in my cabin. With 
my usual methodical desire to read and answer all com- 
munications I sat down to this task, which soon seemed 
hopeless. I was becoming intensely puzzled, and a 
not-knowing-where-I-was-at sensation confused me. 
I did not have a minute for reflection, and before I could, 
approximate my situation, we arrived at Copenhagen. 

Like a bolt from the blue, there burst about me the 
clamor of Copenhagen's ovation. I was utterly be- 
wildered by it. I found no reason in my mind for it. 
About the North Pole I had never felt such exultation. 
I could not bring myself to feel what all this indicated, 
that I had accomplished anything extraordinarily mar- 
velous. For days I could not grasp the reason for the 
world-excitement. 

When I went on deck, as we approached the city, 
I saw far in the distance flags flying. Like a darting 
army of water bugs, innumerable craft of all kind were 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 467 

leaping toward us on the sunlit water. Tugs and 
motors, rowboats and sailboats, soon surrounded and 
followed us. The flags of all nations dangled on the 
decorated craft. People shouted, it seemed, in every 
tongue. Wave after wave of cheering rolled over the 
water. Horns blew, there was the sound of music, guns 
exploded. All about, balancing on unsteady craft, their 
heads hooded in black, were the omnipresent moving- 
picture-machine operators at work. All this passed as a 
moving picture itself, I standing there, dazed, simply 
dazed. 

Amidst increasing cheering the Hans Egede 
dropped anchor. Prince Christian, the crown prince, 
Prince Waldemar, King Frederick's brother, United 
States Minister Egan, and many other distinguished 
gentlemen in good clothes greeted me. That they were 
people who wore good clothes was my predominant im- 
pression. Mentally I compared their well-tailored gar- 
ments with my dirty, soiled, bagged-at-the-knees suit. 
I doffed my old dirty cap, and as I shook hands with 
the Prince Christian and Prince Waldemar, tall, splen- 
did men, I felt very sheepish. While all this was going 
on, I think I forgot about the North Pole. I was most 
uncomfortable. 

For a while it was impossible to get ashore. Along 
the pier to which we drew, the crowd seemed to drag 
into the water. About me was a babel of sound, of 
which I heard, the whole time, no intelligible word. I 
was pushed, lifted ashore, the crown prince before me, 
William T. Stead, the English journalist, behind. I 
almost fell, trying to get a footing. On both sides the 
press of people closed upon us. I fought like a swimmer 



46£ MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

struggling for life, and, becoming helpless, was pushed 
and carried along. I walked two steps on the ground 
and five on the air. Somebody grabbed my hat, an- 
other pulled off a cuff, others got buttons; but flowers 
came in exchange. At times Stead held me from fall- 
ing. I was weak and almost stifled. On both sides of 
me rushed a flood of blurred human faces. I was in a 
delirium. I ceased to think, was unable to think, for 
hours. 

We finally reached the Meteorological building. I 
was pushed through the iron gates. I heard them 
slammed behind me. I paused to breathe. Somebody 
mentioned something about a speech. "My Godl" I 
muttered. I could no more think than fly. I was pushed 
onto a balcony. I remember opening my mouth, but 
I do not know a word I said. There followed a lot of 
noise. I suppose it was applause. Emerging from the 
black, lonely Arctic night, the contrast of that rushing 
flood of human faces staggered me. Yes, there was an- 
other sensation — that of being a stranger among strange 
people, in a city where, however much I might be hon- 
ored, I had no old-time friend. This curiously de- 
pressed me. 

Through a back entrance I was smuggled into an 
automobile. The late Commander Hovgaard, a member 
of the Nordenskjold expedition, took charge of affairs, 
and I was taken to the Phoenix Hotel. Apart- 
ments had also been reserved for me at the Bristol and 
Angleterre, but I had no voice in the plans, for which I 
was glad. 

I was shown to my room and, while washing my 
face and hands, had a moment to think. "What the 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 469 

devil is it all about?" I remember repeating to myself. 
I was simply dazed. A barber arrived; I submitted to a 
shave. Meanwhile a manicure girl appeared and took 
charge of my hands. Through the bewildered days that 
followed, the thought of this girl, like the obsession of a 
delirious man, followed me. I had not paid or tipped 
her, and with the girl's image a perturbed feeling per- 
sisted, "Here is some one I have wronged." I repeated 
that over and over again. This shows the overwrought 
state of my mind at the time. 

Next the bedroom was a large, comfortable recep- 
tion room, already filled with flowers. Beyond that was 
a large room in which I found many suits of clothes, 
some smaller, some bigger than the estimated size wired 
from the ship. At this moment there came Mr. Ralph 
L. Shainwald — an old friend and a companion of the 
first expedition to Mt. McKinley. He selected for me 
suitable things. Hastily I fell into one of these, and 
mechanically put on clean linen — or rather, the clothing 
was put on by my attendants. 

Now I was carried to the American Legation, 
where I lunched with Minister Egan, and I might have 
been eating sawdust for all the impression food made on 
me. For an hour, I have been told since, I was plied 
with questions. It is a strange phenomenon how our 
bodies will act and our lips frame words when the mind 
is blank. I had no more idea of my answers than the 
man in the moon. 

Upon my brain, with the quick, nervous twitter of 
moving-picture impressions, swam continually the 
scenes through which I moved. I have a recollection, on 
my return to the hotel, of going through hundreds of 



470 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

telegrams. Just as a man looks at his watch and puts 
it in his pocket without noting the time, so I read these 
messages of congratulation. Tremendous offers of 
money from publishers, and for lecture engagements, 
and opportunities by which I might become a music-hall 
attraction excited no interest one way or another. 

My desire to show appreciation of the hospitality 
of the Danes by returning to America on a Danish 
steamer prevented my even considering some of these 
offers. If I had planned to deceive the world for money, 
is it reasonable to believe I should have thrown away 
huge sums for this simple show of courtesy? 

Having lunched with Minister Egan, I spent part 
of the afternoon of the day of my arrival hastily scan- 
ning a voluminous pile of correspondence. Money of- 
fers and important messages were necessarily pushed 
aside. I had been honored by a summons to the royal 
presence, and shortly before five o'clock repaired to the 
royal palace. 

I still retain in my mental retina a picture of the 
king. It is a gracious, kindly memory. Surrounded by 
the queen and his three daughters, Princesses Ingeborg, 
Thyra, and Dagmar, he rose, a gray-haired, fatherly old 
man, and with warmness of feeling extended his hand. 
Out of that human sea of swirling white faces and star- 
ing eyes, in which I had struggled as a swimmer for life, 
I remember feeling a sense of security and rest. We 
talked, I think, of general topics. 

I returned to the hotel. Into my brain came the 
words, from some one, that the newspaper correspon- 
dents, representing the great dailies and magazines of 
the world, were waiting for me. Would I see them? I 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 471 

went downstairs and for an hour was grilled with ques- 
tions. They came like shots, in many tongues, and only 
now and then did familiar English words strike me and 
quiver in my brain cells. 

I have been told I was self-possessed and calm. 
Had I gone through 30,000 square miles of land? Was 
I competent to take observations? Could I sit down and 
invent observations? Had I been fully possessed, I sup- 
pose, these sudden doubts expressed would have caused 
some wonderment; doubtless I was puzzled below the 
realm of consciousness, where, they say, the secret service 
of the mind grasps the most elusive things. I have since 
read my replies and marveled at the lucidity of certain 
answers; only my bewilderment, unless I were mis- 
quoted, can explain the absurdity of others. 

My impression of the banquet that night in the City 
Hall is very vague. I talked aimlessly. There were 
speeches, toasts were drunk; I replied. The North Pole 
was, I suppose, the subject, but so bewildered was I 
at the time, that nothing was further from my mind than 
the North Pole. If an idea came now and then it was 
the feeling that I must get away without offending 
these people. I felt the atmosphere of excitement about 
me for days, pressing me, crushing me. 

My time was occupied with consultations, recep- 
tions, lunches, and dinners, between which there was a 
feverish effort to answer increasingly accumulating 
telegrams. Mr. E. G. Wyckoff, an old friend, now 
came along and took from me certain business cares. 
By day there was excitement ; by night excitement; there 
was excitement in my dreams. I slept no more than 
five hours a night — if I could call it sleep. 



472 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

As a surcease from this turmoil came the evening 
at King Frederick's summer palace, where I dined with 
the royal family and many notable guests. All were so 
kindly, the surroundings were so unostentatious, that 
for a short while my confusion passed. 

I remember being cornered near a piano after din- 
ner by the young members of the family and plied with 
questions. I felt for once absolutely at ease and told 
them of the wild animals and exciting hunts of the north. 
Otherwise we talked of commonplace topics, and rarely 
was the North Pole mentioned. 

Until after midnight, on my return to my hotel, I 
sat up with the late Commander Hovgaard and Pro- 
fessor Olafsen, secretary of the Geographical Society. 
I clearly recall an afternoon when Professor Torp, rec- 
tor of the university, and Professor Elis Stromgren, 
informed me that the university desired to honor me 
with a decoration. Professor Stromgren asked me about 
my methods of observation and I explained them freely. 
He believed my claim. The question of certain, abso- 
lute and detailed proofs never occurred to me. I was 
sure of the verity of my claim. I knew I had been as 
accurate in my scientific work as anyone could be. 

My first public account of my exploit was delivered 
before the Geographical Society on the evening of Sep- 
tember 7, and in the presence of the king and queen, 
Prince and Princess George of Greece, most of the 
members of the royal family, and the most prominent 
people of Copenhagen. I had outlined my talk and 
written parts of it. With the exception of these, which 
I read, I spoke extempore. Because of the probability 
of the audience not understanding English, I confined 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 473 

myself to a brief narrative. The audience listened 
quietly and their credence seemed but the undemonstra- 
tive acceptance of an every-day fact. 

Not knowing that a medal was to be presented to 
me at that time, I descended from the platform on con- 
cluding my speech. I met the crown prince, who was 
ascending, and who spoke to me. I did not understand 
him and proceeded to the floor before the stage. Em- 
barrassed by my misunderstanding, he unfolded his 
papers and began a presentation speech. Confused, I 
remained standing below. Whether I ascended the 
stage and made a reply or received the medal from the 
floor, I do not now remember. 

During the several days that followed I spent most 
of my time answering correspondence and attending to 
local obligations. An entire day was spent autograph- 
ing photographs for members of the royal family. After 
much hard work I got things in such shape that I saw 
my way clear to go to Brussels, return to Copenhagen, 
and make an early start for home. 

I had delivered my talk before the Geographical 
Society. The reporters had seen me, and assailed me 
with questions, and had packed their suit cases. Tired 
to death and exhausted with want of sleep, I viewed 
the prospect of a departure with relief. Because of my 
condition I refused an invitation to attend a banquet 
which the newspaper Politiken gave to the foreign cor- 
respondents at the Tivoli restaurant. 

They insisted that I come, if only for five minutes, 
and promised that there would be no attempt at inter- 
viewing. I went and listened wearily to the speeches, 
made in different languages, and felt no stir at the ap- 



474 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

plause. While the representative of the Matin was 
speaking in French, some one tiptoed up to me and 
placed a cablegram under my plate. From all sides at- 
tendants appeared with cables which were quietly placed 
under the plates of the various reporters. The Matin 
man stopped; we looked at the cables. A deadly lull 
fell in the room. You could have heard a pin drop. It 
was Peary's first message — "Stars and Stripes nailed 
to the Pole!" 

My first feeling, as I read it, was of spontaneous be- 
lief. Well, I thought, he got there! On my right and 
left men were arguing about it. It was declared a hoax. 
I recognized the characteristic phrasing as Peary's. I 
knew that the operators along the Labrador coast knew 
Peary and that it would be almost impossible to perpe- 
trate a joke. I told this to the dinner party. The 
speeches continued. No reference was made to the mes- 
sage, but the air seemed charged with electricity. 

My feeling at the news, as I analyze it, was not of 
envy or chagrin. I thought of Peary's hard, long years 
of effort, and I was glad; I felt no rivalry about the 
Pole ; I did feel, aside from the futility of reaching the 
Pole itself, that Peary's trip possibly might be of great 
scientific value; that he had probably discovered new 
lands and mapped new seas of ice. "There is glory 
enough for all," I told the reporters. 

At the hotel a pile of telegrams six inches high, 
from various papers, awaited me. I picked eight repre- 
sentative papers and made some diplomatic reply, 
expressing what I felt. That Peary would contest my 
claim never entered my head. It did seem, and still 
seems, in itself too inconsequential a thing to make such 



GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN 475 

a fuss about. This may be hard to believe to those who 
have magnified the heroism of such an achievement, a 
thing I never did feel and could not feel. 

While sitting at the farewell dinner of the Geo- 
graphical Society the following day, Mr. Peary's sec- 
ond message, saying that my Eskimos declared I had 
not gone far out of sight of land, came to me. Those 
about received it with indignation. Many advised me 
to reply in biting terms. This I did not do ; did not feel 
like doing. 

Peary's messages caused me to make a change in 
my plans. Previously I had accepted an invitation to 
go to Brussels, but now, as I was being attacked, I 
determined to return home immediately and face the 
charges in person. I took passage on the steamship 
Oscar II, sailing direct from Copenhagen to New York. 



COPENHAGEN TO THE UNITED STATES 

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC — RECEPTION IN NEW YORK — BE- 
WILDERING CYCLONE OF EVENTS INSIDE NEWS OF 

THE PEARY ATTACK — HOW THE WEB OF SHAME WAS 
WOVEN 

XXXII 

Peary's Underhand Work at Labrador 

It seemed that, coming from the companionless 
solitude of the North, destiny in the shape of crowds 
was determined to pursue me. I expected to transfer 
from the Melchior to the Oscar II at Christiansaand, 
Norway, quietly and make my way home in peace. At 
Christiansaand the noise began. On a smaller scale 
was repeated the previous ovation of Copenhagen. 

On board the Oscar II I really got more sleep than 
I had for months previous or months afterwards. After 
several days of seasickness I experienced the joys of 
comparative rest and slept like a child. My brain still 
seemed numbed. There were on the boat no curiosity- 
seekers; no crowds stifled me nor did applause thunder 
in my ears. 

Every few minutes, before we got out of touch with 
the wireless, there were messages; communications 
from friends, from newspapers and magazines; repeti- 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 477 

tions of the early charges made against me; questions 
concerning Peary's messages and my attitude toward 
him. When the boat approached Newfoundland the 
wireless again became disturbing. Then came the "gold 
brick" cable. 

At this time, every vestige of pleasure in the 
thought of the thing I had accomplished left me. Since 
then, and to this day, I almost view all my efforts 
with regret. I doubt if any man ever lived in the 
belief of an accomplishment and got so little pleasure, 
and so much bitterness, from it. That my Eskimos had 
told Mr. Peary they had been but two days out of sight 
of land seemed probable; it was a belief I had always 
encouraged. That Mr. Peary should persistently 
attack me did arouse a feeling of chagrin and injury. 

I spent most of my time alone in my cabin or stroll- 
ing on the deck. The people aboard considered Peary's 
messages amusing. I talked little; I tried to analyze the 
situation in my mind, but wearily I gave it up ; mentally 
I was still dazed. 

During the trip Director Cold, chief of the Danish 
United Steamship Company, helped me with small de- 
tails in every way; Lonsdale, my secretary, and Mr. 
Cold's secretary were busy copying my notes and my 
narrative story, which I had agreed to give to the New 
York Herald. I had made no plans; my one object 
was to see my family. 

As we approached New York the wireless brought 
me news of the ovation under way. This amazed and 
filled me with dismay. I had considered the exagger- 
ated reception of Copenhagen a manifestation of local 
excitement, partly due to the interest of the Danes in 



478 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the North. New York, I concluded, was too big, too 
unemotional, too much interested in bigger matters to 
bother much about the North Pole. This I told Robert 
M. Berry, the Berlin representative of the Associated 
Press, who accompanied me on the boat. He disagreed 
with me. 

Having burned one hundred tons of coal in order 
to make time, the Oscar II arrived along American 
shores a day before that arranged for my reception. So 
as not to frustrate any plans, we lay off Shelter Island 
until the next day. It was my wish to send a message 
to Mrs. Cook and ask her to come out. But the sea 
was rough; and, moreover, she was not well. Now tugs 
bearing squads of reporters began to arrive. We agreed 
to let no one aboard. The New York Journal, with 
characteristic enterprise, had brought Anthony Fiala 
on its tug with a note from Mrs. Cook. So an exception 
had to be made. An old friend and a letter from my 
wife could not be sent away. 

That night I slept little. Outside I heard the dull 
thud of the sea. Voices exploded from megaphones 
every few minutes. Mingled emotions filled me. The 
anticipation of meeting wife and children was sweet; 
that again, after an absence of more than two years, I 
should step upon the shores of my own land filled me 
with emotions too strong for words. 

The next morning I was up with the rising of the 
sun. We arrived at Quarantine soon after seven. 
About us on the waves danced a dozen tugs with re- 
porters. In the distance appeared a tug toward which 
I strained my eyes, for I -was told it bore my wife and 
children. With a feeling of delight, which only long 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 479 

separation can give, I boarded this, and in a moment 
they were in my arms. I was conscious of confusion 
about me; of whistling and shrieking; uncanny magni- 
fied voices thundering from scores of megaphones ; of a 
band playing an American air. When the Grand Re- 
public, thrilling a metallic salute, steamed toward us, 
and the cheers of hundreds rent the air, I remembered 
asking myself what it could be all about. Why all this 
agitation? 

Again the contagion of excitement bewildered me ; 
the big boat drew near to a tug, above me swirled a cloud 
of hundreds of faces; around me the sunlit sea, with 
decorated craft, whirled and danced. As I giddily 
ascended the gangplank and felt a wreath of roses flung 
about me I was conscious chiefly of an unsuitable lack 
of appreciation. I spoke briefly; friends and relatives 
greeted me; the shaking of thousands of hands began; 
and all the while a deep hurt, a feeling of soreness, 
oppressed me. 

From that day on until after I left New York, my 
life was a kaleidoscopic whirl of excitement, for which 
I found no reason. I had no time to analyze or estimate 
public enthusiasm and any change of that enthusiasm 
into doubt. I had no sense of perspective; involun- 
tarily I was swept through a cyclone of events. The 
bewilderment which came upon me at Copenhagen re- 
turned, and with it a feeling of helplessness, of puzzle- 
ment ; I felt much as a child might when taking its first 
ride in a carousel. Each day thereafter, from morning 
until morning there was a continuous rush of excite- 
ment; at no time, until I fled from it, did I get more 
than four hours' sleep at night — disturbed sleep at that. 



480 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

I had not a moment for reflection, and even now, after 
recovering from the lack of mental perception which 
inevitably followed, it is with difficulty that I recall my 
impressions at the time. I suppose there are those who 
think that I was having a good time, but it was the 
hardest time of my life. 

I remember standing in the pilot house of the 
Grand Republic, my little ones by me, and watching 
thousands of men along the wharves of the East River, 
going mad. The world seemed engaged in some fran- 
tic revel. Factories became vocal and screamed hide- 
ously; boats became hoarse with shrieking; the mega- 
phone cry was maddening. Drawing up to a gayly 
decorated pier, a thunder of voices assailed me. I felt 
crushed by the unearthly din. 

I was involuntarily shoved along, and found myself 
in an automobile — one of many, all decorated with flags. 
Cameras clicked like rapid-fire guns. A band played; 
roaring voices like beating sound waves rose and fell; 
faces swam before me. 

Through streets jammed with people we moved 
along. I hardly spoke a word to my wife, who sat near. 
Out of the scene of tumult, familiar faces peered now 
and again. I remember being touched by the sight of 
thousands of school children, assembled outside of public 
schools and waving American flags. 

In the neighborhood of the new bridge, under the 
arch, I recall seeing the eager face of my favorite boy- 
hood school-teacher. It struck me at the time that she 
hardly seemed aged a day. Something swelled up within 
me, and I was conscious of a desire to lean out through 
the crowd and draw her into the machine. Through the 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 481 

thick congestion it was difficult to move; even the police 
were helpless. Now and again people tried to climb 
into the machine and were torn away. 

At the Bushwick Club I lunched in a small room 
with friends, and a feeling of pleasure warmed my heart. 
During the reception words of confidence were spoken 
and somehow filtered into my mind. I shook hands 
until my arms were sore, bowed my head until my neck 
ached. I was forced to retire. Later there was dinner 
at the club, after which I received seven hundred singers. 
By this time I felt like a machine. My brain was blank. 
About midnight, utterly exhausted, I arrived at the 
Waldorf-Astoria, where I fought through a crowd in 
the lobby. I think I sat and listened to Mrs. Cook tell- 
ing me news of home and the family until night merged 
into morning. 

Next day the storm through which I was being 
swept began again. During that and the days follow- 
ing I made many mistakes, did and said unwise things. 
I want to show you, in telling of these events, just how 
helpless I was ; what a victim of circumstance ; how un- 
fitted to bear the physical and mental demands of a 
ceaseless procession of public functions, lectures, din- 
ners, receptions, days and nights of traveling, and how 
unable to cope with the many charges. In sixty days 
there were not less than two hundred lectures, dinners, 
and receptions, not to mention the unremitting train 
of press interviews. With no club of friends or organi- 
zation of any kind behind me, I stood the strain alone. 

I was ignorant of much that was said about me. 
I had no one to gauge my situation at any time and 
advise me. About me was an unbearable pressure from 



482 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

friends and foes; I stood it until I could stand it no 
longer. There was not a minute of relief, not a minute 
to think. Coming after two years spent in the Arctic, 
at a time when nature was paying the debt of long 
starvation and hardship, the stress of events inevitably 
developed a mental strain bordering on madness. 
Where could I go to get rest from it all? This was my 
last thought at night and my first thought in the 
morning. 

During my second day at the Waldorf I had to read 
proofs of the narrative to be printed in the Herald, go 
over the plans of my book with the New York publish- 
ing house with whom I had signed a contract, and ex- 
amine hundreds of films to select photographs. There 
were hundreds of letters and telegrams; scores of re- 
porters demanding interviews; hundreds of callers, few 
of whom I was able to see. An army of publishers, 
lecture managers, and even vaudeville managers sent 
up their cards. 

The chief event of the first day in New York was 
the inquisition by newspaper reporters. They both 
interested and amused me. I had gone through the 
same ordeal in Copenhagen, and I knew that American 
interviewers are famed for their wolfish propensities. 

Before I saw the sensation-hungry press men, I got 
certain news that shocked my sense of the fairness of the 
American press. Someone interested in my case had 
sent me unsolicited copies of all telegrams, cables and 
wireless messages passing between New York and the 
Peary ship. These messages now continued to come 
daily, and thus I was afforded a splendid opportunity 
to watch an underhand game of deceit wherein Mr. 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 483 

Peary was shown to be in league with a New York 
paper aiming secretly to further his claims and to cast 
doubt upon mine. 

Among these was a message asking a certain editor 
to meet Peary at Bangor, Maine, to arrange for the pro- 
Peary campaign of bribery and conspiracy which fol- 
lowed. In another, and the most remarkable message, 
Mr. Peary first showed the sneaking methods by which 
the whole controversy was conducted. A long list of 
questions had been prepared by Mr. Peary at Battle 
Harbor, covering, as rival interests dictated, every 
phase of Polar work. These questions were sent to the 
New York Times with instructions to compel answers 
from me on each of a series of catch phrases. 

When the Times reporter came to me with these, I 
recognized the Peary phraseology at once. I after- 
wards compared the copy of Peary's telegram with 
that of the Times, and found in it nearly every question 
asked by the reporters. While the questions were being 
read off, it required a good deal of patience to conceal 
my irritation, as I knew Mr. Peary was talking through 
the smooth-faced, smiling press cubs, none of whom 
knew that he was Peary's mouthpiece. Every one of the 
Peary questions, however, was amusing, for I had an- 
swered each a dozen times in Europe. But if Mr. 
Peary must question me, why did he stoop to the hypoc- 
risy of doing it through others? The other reporters 
asked many questions, the reports of which I have not 
seen since. But the duplicity of this little trick left a 
strong impression of unfairness. 

At about this time I began to examine critically the 
many efforts which Mr. Peary had begun to make to 



484- MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

discredit my achievement. In going over such of his 
reports of his own claims as had gotten to me, I was at 
once struck with the statements parallel to mine which 
he had sent out, and since these so thoroughly proved my 
case I felt that I could be liberal and patient with Mr. 
Peary's ill-temper. 

I now learned that after Mr. Peary got the full 
reports of my attainment of the Pole at the wireless 
station at Labrador, he withdrew behind the rocks to a 
place where no one was looking, and digested that re- 
port. His own report came after the digestion of mine. 
In the meantime, his delay in proceeding to Sydney, 
Nova Scotia, and his silence, were explained by the offi- 
cial announcement that the ship was being washed and 
cleaned. This was manifestly absurd. No seaman re- 
turning from a voyage of a year, where sailors have no 
occupation whatever except such work, waits until he 
gets to port before cleaning his decks. Furthermore, 
this hiding behind the rocks of Labrador continued for 
weeks. What was the mysterious occupation of Mr. 
Peary? The Roosevelt, as described by visitors when 
she arrived at Sydney, was still very dirty. When Mr. 
Peary's much-heralded report was finally printed, every 
Arctic explorer at once said the astonishing parallel 
statements in Mr. Peary's narrative either proved my 
case or convicted Mr. Peary of plagiarism. My story, 
by this time, had got well along in the New York 
Herald. To help Mr. Peary out of his position, 
McMillan later rushed to the press. He was under 
contract not to write or talk to the press, nor to lecture, 
write magazine articles or books, as were all of Peary's 
men. But this prohibition was waived temporarily. 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 485 

Then McMillan made the statement that Dr. Cook must 
have gotten the "parallel data" and inside information 
from Mr. Peary's Eskimos. Everyone acquainted with 
Greenland, including McMillan, knows that such inter- 
communication was impossible. I had left for Uper- 
navik by the time Peary returned to Etah. Therefore, 
McMillan and Peary both were caught in a deliberate 
lie, as were also Bartlett* and Borup later. These were 
Mr. Peary's witnesses in the broadside of charges with 
which I was to be annihilated. 

A few days after my arrival in America I learned for 
the first time of the strange death of Ross Marvin. 
We were asked by Mr. Peary to believe that this young 
man of more than average intelligence, a graduate of 
Cornell University and of the New York Nautical 
School, a man of experience on the Polar seas, stepped 
over young ice alone, without a life-line, and sank 
through a film of ice to a grave in the Arctic waters. 
An idiot might do that; but Marvin, unless he went 

"Captain Robert A. Bartlett, of the Peary ship Roosevelt, has fig- 
ured much in this controversy. Most of his reported statements, I am 
inclined to believe, are distorted. But he has allowed the words attrib- 
uted to him to stand; therefore, the harm done is just as great as if the 
charges were true. He allowed Henry Rood, in The Saturday Evening 
Post, to say that my expedition was possible only through the advice of 
Bartlett. Every statement which Rood made, as Bartlett knows, is a lie. 
He has allowed this to stand, and he thereby stands convicted as party to 
a faked article written with the express purpose of inflicting an injury. 

Bartlett cross-questioned my Eskimos about instruments. By showing 
them a sextant and other apparatus he learned that I not only had a full 
set, but he also learned how I used them. Peary, although having Bart- 
lett's report on this, insinuated that I had no instruments, and that I 
made no observations. Bartlett knew this to be a lie, but he remained 
silent. He is therefore a party to a Peary lie. 

In the early press reports Bartlett is credited with saying that "Cook 
had no instruments." A year later, after Bartlett returned from another 
trip north, faked pictures and faked news items were printed with the 
Bartlett interviews and reports. There was no protest, and at the same 
time Bartlett said that books, instruments, and things belonging to me 
had been destroyed. In the following year Bartlett announced that he was 



486 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

suddenly mad, would not do it. To cross the young ice 
of open leads, like that in which Marvin is said to have 
perished, is a daily, almost hourly, experience in Arctic 
travel. To safeguard each other's lives, and to save 
sledges and dog teams, life-lines are carried in coils on 
the upstanders of the sled. When about to risk a cross- 
ing, a line is always fixed from one to the other and from 
sled to sled. When this is done, and an accident hap- 
pens such as that which is alleged to have befallen 
Marvin, the victim is saved by the pull of his companions 
on the line. This is done as unfailingly as one eats 
meals. Would a man of Marvin's experience and in- 
telligence neglect such a precaution? I knew such an 
accident might have happened to the inexperienced ex- 
plorers of the days of Franklin, but to-day it seemed 
incredible. Furthermore, Peary was boasting of what 
he styled the "Peary system," for which is claimed such 
thoroughness that without it no other explorer could 
reach the Pole. If Marvin's death was natural, then he 
is a victim of this system. 



"going after Cook's instruments." Has the press lied, or has Bartlett 
lied? Next to Henson, Mr. Peary's colored servant, Captain Bartlett is 
Peary's star witness. 

George Borup, in "A Tenderfoot With Peary," after repeating in his 
book many pro-Peary lies, tried to prove his assertion by an alleged study 
of my sledge (P. 300) : "Except for its being shortened, the sledge was 
the same as when it had left Annoatok. It weighed perhaps thirty pounds, 
and was very flimsy." 

This is a deliberate lie, for it was only a half-sled, reassembled and 
repaired by old bits of driftwood. After this first lie he says, in the 
same paragraph: "Yet it had only two cracks in it." The upstanders had 
been cracked in a dozen places, the runners were broken, and every part 
was cracked. 

Borup shows by his orthography of Eskimo words that he knows almost 
nothing of the Eskimo language. Therefore he may be dismissed as incom- 
petent where Eskimo reports are to be interpreted. He is committed to 
the Peary interests, which also eliminates him from the jury. But in his 
report of my sled he has stooped to lies which forever deprive him of 
being credited with any honest opinion on the Polar controversy. 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 487 

But let us read between the lines of this harrowing 
tragedy. After learning of my attainment of the Pole, 
Peary rushed to the wireless. With a letter in his 
pocket from Captain Adams which gave the news that 
started the ire of envy, and which also gave the news 
that convicted Peary of a lie, he thereafter for a week 
or more kept the wires busy with the famous "gold 
brick" messages. 

Marvin's death, and the duty to a bereaved family, 
which ordinary humanity would have dictated, were of 
no consequence to one making envious, vicious attacks. 
For a week all the world blushed with shame because of 
the dishonor thus brought upon our country and our 
flag. In New York there was a happy home, a loving 
mother, a fond sister; anxious friends were all busy in 
preparing surprises for the happy homecoming of the 
one beloved by all. It was a busy week, with joyous, 
heart-stirring anticipation. There was no news from 
the Peary ship. Not a word came to indicate that their 
expected returning hero had been lost in the icy seas. 
To that mother's yearning heart her boy was nearing 
home — but alas I no news came! A week passed, and 
still no news ! 

At last, after Peary had digested my narrative, 
the carefully prepared press report was put on the 
wires. Ross Marvin's family, engrossed in prepara- 
tions for a reception with flowers and flags, was about 
to see, in cold, black print, that he for whom their hearts 
beat expectantly was no more. At the last moment, 
Peary's conscience seemingly troubled him. A long 
message was sent to a friend to break the news and to 
soften the effects of the press reports on that poor 



488 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

mother and sister. That message was sent "Collect." 
A man who had given years of his time and his life to 
glorify Peary was not worthy of a prepaid telegram! 

Later, an important letter from Marvin reached his 
own home. In it the stealing of my supplies is referred 
to in a way to show that Marvin condemned Peary. 
The public ought to know the wording of this part of the 
letter. Why has it been suppressed? Marvin's death, 
to my understanding, does not seem natural. With a 
good deal of empty verbiage the sacrifice of this un- 
fortunate young man is explained; but two questions 
are forced at once: Why was Marvin without a life- 
line? Why were conveniently lost with him certain 
data that might disprove Peary's case? 

If Marvin sank into the ice, as Peary said he did, 
then Peary is responsible for the loss of that life, for he 
did not surround him with proper safeguards. The 
death of this man points to something more than 
tragedy. Since Marvin's soundings were made under 
the authority of the Coast and Geodetic Survey, the 
American Government is, therefore, answerable for this 
death. 

Mr. Peary's treatment of Marvin wearied me of 
all the Peary talk at the time; and, furthermore, all of 
Mr. Peary's charges, of which so much fuss was made, 
carried the self-evident origin of cruel envy and selfish- 
ness. First, the Eskimos, put through a third degree 
behind closed doors, were reported to have said that I 
had not been more than two sleeps out of sight of land. 
This was easily explained. They had been instructed 
not to tell Mr. Peary of my affairs, and they had been 
encouraged to believe themselves always near land. 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 489 

Then this charge was dropped, and the next was made, 
the one about my not reporting the alleged cache at 
"Cape Thomas Hubbard." That assertion, instead of 
injuring me, convicted Peary of trying to steal from 
Captain Sverdrup the honor of discovering and naming 
Svartevoeg. For it was shown that by deception "Cape 
Thomas Hubbard" had been written over a point dis- 
covered years earlier by another explorer. For this 
kind of honor Hubbard had contributed to Peary's 
expeditions. But is not the obliteration of a geo- 
graphic name for money a kind of geographic larceny? 

Then was forced the charge that I had told no one 
of my Polar success in the North, and therefore the 
entire report was an afterthought. Whitney and Prich- 
ard later cleared this up, but at the very time when 
Peary made this charge he had in his possession a letter 
from Captain Adams, of the whaler Morning, which he 
had received in the North, wherein my attainment of the 
Pole was stated. When Peary got the Adams letter he 
put on full steam, abandoned his plan to visit other 
Greenland ports, and came direct to Labrador, to the 
wireless. Why was the Adams letter suppressed, when 
it was charged that I had told no one? And, further- 
more, why had Mr. Peary told no one on his ship of his 
own success until he neared Battle Harbor? 

All of these charges betrayed untruthful methods 
on the part of Mr. Peary in his own method of presen- 
tation. Automatically, without a word of defence on 
my part, each charge rebounded on the charger. 

Then there came the page broadside of rearranged 
charges printed by every American paper. It con- 
tained nothing new in the text, but with it there was a 



490 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

faked map, copied from Sverdrup, which was made to 
appear as though drawn by Eskimos. The best answer 
to this whole problem is that from the same tongues 
with which Mr. Peary tried to discredit me has come 
a much more formidable charge against Mr. Peary. 
For these same Eskimos have since said, without 
quizzing from me, that Mr. Peary never got to the Pole 
and that he never saw Crocker Land. 

This part of the controversy was thoroughly ana- 
lyzed by Professor W. P. Armbruster and Dr. Henry 
Schwartz in the St. Louis Mirror*. 

While this controversy early began to rage, the 
tremendous offers of money which came in every hour 
contributed to my bewilderment. They seemed fabu- 



*Professor Armbruster and Dr. Schwartz, of St. Louis, at a time 
when few papers had the courage to print articles in my defence, appealed 
to W. R. Reedy, of the Mirror, for space to uncover the unfair methods of 
the Pro-Peary conspiracy. This space was liberally granted, and the 
whole controversy was scientifically analyzed by the Mirror in an un- 
biased manner. Here is shown an important phase of the Peary charges, 
from the Mirror, April 21, 1910. As it clearly reveals the facts, I present 
part of it as follows: • 

The point made by Dr. Schwartz, that there is a contradiction between 
Peary's statements of September 28 and October 13, is well taken. The 
statement of October 13 is a point-blank contradiction of the previous one. 
Dr. Schwartz notes that when Peary made, on September 28, what Peary 
called his strongest indictment of Dr. Cook, Peary must have had with 
him at Bar Harbor the chart with the trail of Cook's route, and infers 
that, as the later charge was by far the stronger indictment of the two, 
there must be some other explanation of the contradiction. 

Analysis of this contradiction develops one of the most serious proposi- 
tions of the whole Polar controversy. Mr. Peary might now say that he 
waS" holding his strongest point in reserve, but such explanation would 
not be sufficient, for he stated that the indictment of September 28 is "the 
strongest that has been advanced in Arctic exploration ever since the 
great expedition was sent there," and no child is so simple as to believe that 
the indictment of September 28 is at all comparable in magnitude to the 
one of October 13. Upon analysis, we find that there is indeed another 
explanation, and only one, and that is, that when the indictment of Septem- 
ber 28 was made, the one of October 13 had not been conceived or con- 
cocted, and it will show that Peary, Bartlett, McMillan, Borup and Henson, 
all who signed the statement of October 13, perpetrated a gross false- 
hood and imposition upon the public. All are caught in the one net. 

If this coterie had received from the Eskimos such information as is 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 491 

lous; the purport was beyond me. I imagined this as 
part of a dream from which I should awake. Were I 
the calculating monster of cupidity which some believe 
me, I suppose I should have been more circumspect in 
making my financial arrangements. 

I should hardly, for instance, have sold my narra- 
tive story to Mr. James Gordon Bennett for $25,000 
when there were single offers of $50,000, $75,000, 
$100,000, and more, for it. While I was in Copen- 
hagen, and before the Herald offer was accepted, Mr. 
W. T. Stead had come with a message from W. R. 
Hearst with instructions to double any other offer pre- 
sented for my narrative. Had I accepted Mr. Hearst's 



claimed by them in their statement of October 13, then they must have 
received It from the Eskimos before Peary and his party left Etah on their 
return to America. If they had the information when they left the 
Eskimos at Etah, on their return to America, then they had it when 
they arrived at Indian Harbor, and before their statement of September 
28 was made. 

In their statement of October 13, 1909, Peary, Bartlett, McMillan, 
Borup and Henson state, and sign their names to the statement made to 
the world and copyrighted, that they had a map on which E-tuk-i-shook 
and Ah-we-lah, Dr. Cook's two Eskimos, had traced for them the route 
taken by Dr. Cook, and that this was also supported by the verbal state- 
ments of the two Eskimos, that Dr. Cook had reached the northern point 
of Heiberg Land, or Cape Thomas Hubbard; that he had gone two sleeps 
north of it, had then turned to the west or southwest, and returned to the 
northern headland of Heiberg Land, but on the west or northwest side, 
and had sent back one of the Eskimos to the cache left on the headland, 
but on the east side of the point, and remained at this new place on the 
west side of the point for four or five sleeps. Then, all the time that 
Peary was challenging and impugning that Dr. Cook had reached even the 
northern point of Heiberg Land, according to their own statement of 
October 13, they had in their pockets the map and information from the 
Eskimos that Dr. Cook had not only reached the northern point of Heiberg 
Land, but traveled above it and turned around the point. In so challenging 
that Dr. Cook had reached even the northern point of said land, and 
thereby discrediting Dr. Cook with all the force and influence at their 
command, when, according to their own later statement, they had then and 
at that time, and before such time (since they left Etah on their return 
to America), the statements, trail of route and testimony of the Eskimos 
entirely to the contrary, Peary and his coterie deliberately and knowingly 
prepetrated on the public the grossest of falsehoods and impositions. 

There are several other contradictions in the statement of October 13. 



492 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

bid he would have paid $400,000 for what I sold for 
$25,000. Here is a sacrifice of $375,000. Does that 
look as if I tried to hoax the world for sordid gain, as 
my enemies would like the public to believe? What 
Mr. Bennett asked and offered $25,000 for was a series 
of four articles on adventures in the North, for use in 
the Sunday supplement of the Herald. I had no such 
articles prepared at the time, nor, as I knew, should I 
have time to write these. I did have the narrative story 
of my trip, which consisted of twenty-five thousand to 
thirty thousand words, complete. I decided, when I 
heard the first reports of doubt cast on my claim, to 
publish my narrative story as an honest and sincere 
proof of my claim as soon as possible. So I gave this 
to Mr. Bennett for the sum offered purely for Sunday 
articles. 



One is the statement that Pan-ic-pa (the father of E-tuk-i-shook), was 
familiar with the first third and last third of the journey of Dr. Cook 
and his two Eskimos. Pan-ic-pa may be familiar with the territory of the 
last third of the route, but not with the journey made by Dr. Cook and 
E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah over this part of the route, for these three 
alone made the journey from Cape Sparbo to Annoatok. Pan-ic-pa went 
only as far as the northern point of Heiberg Land, and returned from there 
nearly a year before Dr. Cook and his two Eskimos arrived from Cape 
Sparbo. This is shown by Peary and his party themselves in their state- 
ment that Pan-ic-pa, the father of E-tuk-i-shook, a very intelligent man, 
who was in the party of Eskimos that came back from Dr. Cook from 
the northern end of Nansen's Strait (Sound), came in and indicated the 
same localities and details as the two boys. Of course Pan-ic-pa could 
only indicate the localities that he had himself journeyed to with Dr. Cook, 
and not any after he had left Dr. Cook and the two Eskimos at the 
norther point of Heiberg Land, or the northern end of Nansen's Sound, 
which is the same thing. 

Another contradiction, a very serious one indeed, as important as the 
first of the foregoing contradictions is, that if Peary and his party had 
such information from the Eskimos as they claimed in their statement of 
October 13, then they knew that the little sledge of Dr. Cook whieh 
they saw at Etah was not the sledge that made the trip to the Pole. 
The printed reports show that long before October 13 Peary and all his 
henchmen were challenging and charging to the public that the little sled 
in question left with Whitney, could not possibly have made the trip to the 
Pole. In the statement of October 13, Peary and his party state that, 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 493 

Mr. Bennett offered me $5,000 additional for the 
European rights of this story. To this offer I made 
no reply, giving Mr. Bennett the sole news rights of the 
story for the entire world. 

When I reached New York, needing ready money, 
I wired Mr. Bennett for an advance on my story. He 
cabled back an immediate order for the entire sum of 
$25,000. This gave me a sudden glow, a feeling of 
pleasure at what I regarded as a display of confidence. 

With my lecture work and traveling I was kept so 
busy that I did not have time to go over the story, type- 
written from my almost illegible notes, which was sent 
to the New York Herald. When I did go over the 
proofs and found many grievous errors, the Herald had 



according to the Eskimos, Dr. Cook and his two Eskimos started from the 
northern point of Heiberg Land with only two sledges. Further on in the 
statement, that the dogs and one sledge were abandoned in Jones Sound, 
and that at Cape Vera — western end of Jones Sound — Peary and his party 
say that E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, Dr. Cook's two Eskimos, informed 
them that (quoting Peary and his party's statement verbatim), "here they 
cut the remaining sledge off — that is, shortened it, as it was awkward to 
transport with the boat, and near here they killed a walrus." 

During all the time then, before October IS, that Peary and his party 
were beUttUng this sled, and referring to it3 character as a positive proof 
that Dr. Cook could not have reached the Pole, and stating that it would 
have been knocked to pieces in a few days, they, according to their own 
statement of October 13, knew, even while using such argument against 
Dr. Cook, that the little sled was not the original sled, but only a part 
of one which the desperate and fearfully hard-pressed wanderers had them- 
selves — having no dogs — dragged their food for three hundred miles over 
one of the roughest and most terrible strectches of the frozen zone, never 
before traveled by man. According to their own statement of October 13, 
Peary and his clique convict themselves of boldly and deliberately perpe- 
trating gross falsehoods against Dr. Cook and upon the people. Then shall 
we believe anything further from them? 

There is only one rational view to take of their statement of October 
13. That, knowing their first charges were certain to fail, the statement 
of October 13 was concocted for their own base purposes. No sane person 
can believe that if they had had such exceedingly damaging information as 
is claimed by them in their statement of October 13, they could have instead 
made use of charges far less damaging and known to them to be false. 

W. J. Abhbbusteb. 

St. Louis, Mo., April 13, 1910. 



494 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

already syndicated the story. It was too late for any 
corrections, and thus many errors appeared. 

I made a contract with a New York publishing 
house, while in Copenhagen, with the idea of getting 
out my book and all proofs possible as soon as the 
presses would allow, in view of the imminent contro- 
versy. For the English and American rights to my 
book I was to receive $150,000 in a lump sum and an 
additional $150,000 in royalties. Although papers 
were signed for this, later on, when things seemed turn- 
ing against me and I saw the publishers were getting 
"cold feet," I voluntarily freed them from the contract. 

By the time I left Copenhagen, as I figured later, 
offers for book and magazine material and lectures 
had aggregated just one and one-half million dollars. 
A prominent New York manager made me an offer of 
$250,000 for a series of lectures. During the first few 
days I had absolutely no system of caring for this corre- 
spondence, hundreds of important cablegrams remained 
unopened, and huge offers of money were ignored. It 
was only after Minister Egan sent Walter Lonsdale, in 
response to my request for a competent secretary, that 
some intelligible information was gleaned from the mass 
of correspondence. Most of it, as a matter of fact, was 
read only when we were on the Oscar II, bound for 
home. 

After making my arrangement with Mr. Bennett, 
the Matin of Paris had sent me an offer of $50,000 for 
the serial rights of a French translation of the story to 
appear in the Herald. This included a lecture under 
the auspices of the paper in Paris. My anxiety to get 
home prevented a consideration of this ; and it was only 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 495 

after I sailed on the Oscar II that I realized I could have 
gone to Paris, delivered the lecture, and returned to 
New York by a fast boat. 

On the Oscar II a wireless had reached me of a 
large offer for a lecture during the convention in St. 
Louis. This I decided to accept, the simple reason 
being that I needed money. 

Much criticism has been hurled at me because I 
started on a lecture campaign when I should have pre- 
pared my data and submitted proof. At that time I 
was in no position to anticipate or understand this criti- 
cism. Every explorer for fifty years had done the same 
thing, all had delivered lectures and written articles 
about their work after a first preliminary report. Sup- 
plementary and detailed data were usually given long 
afterwards, not as proof but as a part of the plan of 
recording ultimate results. I had the precedents of 
Stanley, Nordenskjold, Nansen, Peary, and others. 

Had I anticipated the furore that was being raised 
about proofs, I probably should have taken public 
opinion into my consideration. So firm was my own 
conviction of achievement that the difficulty of supply- 
ing such absolute proof as the unique occasion after- 
wards demanded never occurred to me. My feeling at 
the time was that I was under no obligation to patrons, 
to the Government, to any society, or anyone, and that I 
had a right to deliver lectures at a time when public 
interest was keyed up, and to prepare my detailed re- 
ports at a time when I should have more leisure. 

My family needed money. Huge sums were 
offered me hourly; I should have been unwise indeed 
had I not accepted some of the offers. I am advised 



496 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

that stories of enormous lecture profits have been told. 
I am informed that the newspapers said I was to receive 
$25,000 for going to St. Louis. The truth is that I got 
less than half that, though I believe St. Louis probably 
spent more than $25,000 in preparing for my appear- 
ance there. All told, I delivered about twenty lectures 
in various large cities, receiving from $1,000 to $10,000 
per lecture. My expenses were heavy, so that in the 
end I netted less than $25,000. When I determined to 
stop the lecture work and prepare my data, I canceled 
$140,000 worth of lecture engagements. 

Each day there was a routine of lunches with 
speeches, dinners with speeches, suppers with speeches. 
The task of devising speeches was ever present ; with me 
it did not come easy. But speeches must be made, and 
I felt a tense strain, as if something were drawing my 
mentality from me. 

Everywhere I went crowds pressed about me. I 
shook hands until the flesh of one finger was actually 
worn through to the bone. Hundreds of people daily 
came to see me. 

About this time, too, my bewildered brain began to 
realize that I was also the object of most ferocious 
attacks from many quarters. I had no time to read the 
newspapers, and these charges and suspicions filtered in 
to me through reporters and friends. Usually they 
reached me in an exaggerated or a distorted form. 

There began at this time the publication of innu- 
merable fake interviews and stories misrepresenting 
me.* One interviewer quoted me as saying that 

*One of the meanest and pettiest charges concocted for Mr. Peary at a 
time when personal veracity was regarded as the test of rival claims was 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 497 

Dagaard Jensen had seen my records, and therefore 
confirmed my claim to the people in Copenhagen; 
another that I said Governor Kraul of Greenland had 
reported talking with my Eskimos, who had confirmed 
my report. Dagaard Jensen justly denied this by 
cable, as I had made no such statement. That about 
Governor Kraul was absurd on the face of it, as he was 
a thousand miles away from my Eskimos. I have no 
means of knowing the embarrassing statements attrib- 
uted to me — things which were variously denied, and 
which hurt me. There was not time for me to consider 
or answer them. 

Then came the blow which almost stunned me — the 
news that Harry Whitney had not been allowed by 
Peary to bring my instruments and notes home with 
him. 

During the long night at Cape Sparbo I had care- 
fully figured out and reduced most of my important 
observations. The old, rubbed, oily, and torn field 

that I had attempted to steal the scientific work of a missionary while I 
was on the Belgica Antarctic Expedition. Director Townsend, of the 
New York Aquarium, who, like Mr. Peary, was drawing a salary from 
the taxpayers while his energies were spent in another mission, declared 
I had taken a dictionary, compiled by Thos. Bridges, of Indian words, 
and had put it forth as my own work. Dalenbagh, of the American 
Geographical Society, and of the "Worm Diggers' Union," poUy-like, also 
repeated this charge. "Of the other charges against Dr. Cook we are at 
sea," he said, "but here is something that we know about." By expending 
five cents in stamps, five minutes with the pen, both Townsend and 
Dalenbaugh might have learned that the dishonor which they were trying to 
attach to some one else was on themselves. 

Under big headlines, "Dr. Cook Steals a Missionary's Work," the 
New York Times and other pro-Peary papers printed columns of absolute 
lies in what purported to be interviews with Townsend. Dalenbaugh, point- 
ing to this gleefully, said "Dr. Cook has been guilty of wrong-doing for 
many years." 

Now what were the facts? Among the scientific collections of the 
Belgian Expedition, was a series of notes, embodying a Yahagan Indian 
Dictionary, made by the missionary, Thomas Bridges. Although this was 
of little use to anybody, it was a scientific record worthy of preservation. 



498 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

notes, the instrumental corrections and the direct read- 
ings were packed with the instruments, and these were 
mostly left with Mr. Whitney. The figures were im- 
portant for future recalculation, but otherwise had not 
seemed materially important to me, for they had served 
their purpose. I had with me all the important data, 
such as is usually given in a traveler's narrative. No 
more had ever been asked before. 

Under ordinary circumstances, these instruments 
and papers would not have been of great value, but 
under the public excitement their importance was im- 
mensely enhanced. 

I had publicly announced that Mr. Whitney would 
bring these with him on the boat in which he was to 
return. Had there been no notes and no instruments, I 
hardly should have said this were I perpetrating a fraud, 
for I should have known that the failure of Mr. Whitney 
to supply these would provoke widespread suspicion. 



In a friendly spirit toward the late Mr. Bridges and his Indians, I per- 
suaded the Belgians at great expense to publish the work. It was written 
in the old Ellis system of orthography, which is not generally understood. 
Working on this material for one year without pay, I changed it to 
ordinary English orthography, but made few other alterations. The book 
is not yet printed, but part of it is in press. The introduction was printed 
five years ago, and among the first paragraphs appear these words: 

"My visit among the tribe of Fuegians was not of sufficient length to 
make a thorough study, nor had I the opportunity to collect much data 
from Indians, but I was singularly fortunate in being in the company of 
Mr. Thomas Bridges and Mr. John Lawrence, men who have made these 
people their life study. The credit of collecting and making this Yahagan 
Grammar and Vocabulary belongs solely to Mr. Bridges, who devoted most 
of his time during thirty-seven years to recording this material. My work 
is limited to a slight re-arrangement of the words, a few additions of notes 
and words, and a conversion of the Ellis phonetic characters in which the 
native words were written into ordinary English orthography. It is hoped 
that this study of Yahagan language, with a few of their tales and tradi- 
tions, will, with a report of the French Expedition, make a fitting end to 
an important record of a vanishing people." 

Then follows a short favorable biography of the man whose work I 
was accused of stealing. 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 499 

This is just what happened. Had I foreseen the trou- 
ble that resulted, I should have taken my instruments 
with me to Upernavik, and have supplied my observa- 
tions and notes at once. 

As I have said before, I believed in an accomplish- 
ment which I felt was largely personal, for which a 
world excitement was not warranted and in which I had 
such a sure confidence that I never thought of abso- 
lutely accurate proof. This was my folly — for which 
fate made me pay. Imagine my dismay, the heart- 
sickness which seized me when, through the din of tumult 
and excitement, in the midst of suspicion, came the news 
that Mr. Whitney had been forced by Mr. Peary to 
take from the Roosevelt and bury the very material 
with which I might have dispelled suspicion and quelled 
the storm of unmerited abuse. 

The instruments carried on my northern trip, and 
left with Mr. Whitney, and which he had seen, consisted 
of one French sextant; one aluminum surveying com- 
pass, with azimuth attachment, bought of Keuffer & 
Essen, New York; one glass artifical horizon, set in a 
thin metal frame, adjusted by spirit levels and thumb- 
screws, bought of Hutchinson, Boston; one aneroid 
barometer, aluminum, bought of Hicks; an aluminum 
case with maximum and minimum spirit thermometer; 
other thermometers, and one liquid compass. 

Other instruments used about stations were also 
left. With these were papers giving some instrumental 
corrections, readings, and comparisons, and other occa- 
sional notes, and a small diary, mostly loose leaves, con- 
taining some direct field reading of instruments and 
meteorological data. These took up very little space; 



500 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

and, if I remember correctly, all were snugly packed in 
one of the instrument cases. 

Mr. Whitney especially asked, as a personal favor, 
the honor of caring for my flag. Later, after his return, 
he said that as Mr. Peary had refused to let him take 
aboard my things, he had no alternative but to bury 
them at Etah. I have no complaint to make against 
Mr. Peary about this. He was at liberty to pick the 
freight of his own ship. But he later said: "His [Dr. 
Cook's] leaving of his records at Etah was a scheme by 
which he could claim that they were lost." If Mr. 
Peary knew this, why did he not bring them? 

At the time I felt crippled; my feeling of disgust 
with the problem, with myself, and with the situation 
began. It would be impossible to give in my report a 
continuous line of observations. I had no corrections 
for the instruments. I knew they might vary. I had no 
means of checking them. I had some copies of the origi- 
nal data, but they were not complete. I should have to 
rest my whole case on a report with reduced observa- 
tions, for I knew it would not be possible to send a ship 
to Etah until the f oflowing year. And I also knew that 
if Eskimos were not given strong explicit instructions 
all would be lost. 

Meanwhile, many apparently trivial accusations 
against me were being widely discussed, which, never 
refuted, had their weight in the long run in discrediting 
my good faith. On every side I was attacked, not so 
much for unintentional error, as for deliberate false- 
hood. 

In the bewildering days that followea — during 
which I traveled to various cities to fulfill lecture en- 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 501 

gagements — I felt alone, a victim of such pressure as, I 
believe, has seldom been the fate of any human being. 

Friends confused me as much as the attacks of foes. 
Some advised one thing; others another; my brain stag- 
gered with their well-meaning advice. Most of them 
wanted me to "light out," as they expressed it, and 
attack Mr. Peary. A number suggested the formation 
of an organization, the work of which would be to issue 
counter attacks on Mr. Peary, to be written by various 
men, and to reply systematically to charges made 
against me. Such a course was distasteful to me, and, 
furthermore, the selfish, envious origin of all of Mr. 
Peary's charges seemed evident. 

Many of the other attacks seemed so ridiculous that 
I felt no one would believe them — which was another of 
my many mistakes. The more serious charges I be- 
lieved could wait until I had time to sit down and reply 
to them at length. I felt the futility of any fragment- 
ary retorts. At no time did I have an intelligent grasp 
of the situation, of the excited and exaggerated interest 
of the public, or of the fluctuating state of public 
opinion. 

In my many years of Arctic work I had gathered 
pictures of almost every phase of Arctic life and scene; 
on subsequent trips, unless for some special reason, I did 
not duplicate photographs of impregnable, unmeltable 
headlands, or of walrus, or icebergs which I considered 
typical. In the early rush for illustrative material I 
gave a number of these to the Herald, stating they were 
scenes I had passed, but which had been taken on an 
earlier expedition. By some mistake, which is not 
unusual in newspaper offices, one of these pictures was 



502 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

put under a caption, "Pictures of Dr. Cook's Polar 
Trip," or something to this effect. Whereupon, Mr. 
Herbert Bridgman, secretary of the Peary Arctic Club, 
shouted aloud, "Fraud!" and others took up the cry. 
A further charge that these pictures were not mine at 
all, but had been stolen or borrowed from Hubert Berri, 
was advanced — an absolute untruth, as I had the nega- 
tives, from which these pictures were made, in my pos- 
session. 

What, in those early days, had seemed a serious 
criticism offered against my claim, was that I had ex- 
ceeded possible speed limits by asserting an average of 
about fifteen miles a day. The English critics were 
particularly severe. According to their reading, this 
had never been done before. Admiral Melville had 
taken this up in America before my arrival; by the 
time I got to New York, Mr. Peary had made a report 
of twenty to forty-five miles daily under similar condi- 
tions, and I asked myself the reason of the sudden hush. 

Much space was now given to the criticism by 
learned men of my giving seconds in observations. The 
point was taken that as you near the Pole the degrees 
of longitude narrow, and seconds are of no consequence. 
Therefore I was charged with trying to fake an impos- 
sible accuracy. I always regarded seconds as of little 
consequence, put them down as a matter of routine — 
for in that snow-blinding, bewildering North I worked 
more like a machine than a reasoning being — and now 
the inadvertent use of these was used to cast suspicion 
upon me. 

With this attack, like echoes from many places, 
came reiterations of the criticism, which, polly-like, was 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 503 

taken up by Rear- Admiral Chester. Professor Stock- 
well of Cleveland had earlier brought out this academic 
discussion. Because I had seen the midnight sun for 
the first time on April 7 it was claimed I must have 
been at a more southern point of the globe than I be- 
lieved. At the time it seemed the only serious scientific 
criticism of my reports which was used against me. 

Whether I was on a more southerly point of the 
globe than I believed or not, I had not used the midnight 
sun, seen through a mystic maze of unknowable refrac- 
tion, to determine position; to do so would have been 
impossible. With a constant moving and grinding of 
the ice, causing opening lanes of water, from which the 
inequality of temperature drew an evaporation like 
steam from a volcano, it is impossible at this season to 
see a low sun with a clear horizon. One looks through 
an opaque veil of blinding crystals. Every Arctic trav- 
eler knows that even when the sun is seen on a clear 
horizon, as it returns after the long night, his eyes are 
deceived — he does not see the sun at all, but a refracted 
image caused by the optical deception of atmospheric 
distortions. For this reason, as I knew, all observa- 
tions of the sun when very low are worthless as a means 
of determining position. The assumption that I had 
done this seemed mere foolishness to me at the time. 

Staggered by the blow that Whitney had buried my 
instruments in the North, the recurring thoughts of 
these harassing charges certainly had no soothing effect. 

Alone, I was unable to cope with matters, anyway. 
I under-estimated the effect of the cumulating attacks. 
Oppressed by the undercurrent feeling that it was all a 
fuss about very little, a thing of insignificant worth, and 



504 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

disturbed by the growing uncertainty of proving such a 
claim to the point of hair-breadth accuracy by any 
figures, despair overcame me. 

I was so busy I could not pause to think, and was 
conscious only of the rush, the labor, the worry. I no 
longer slept; indigestion naturally seized me as its vic- 
tim. A mental depression brought desperate premoni- 
tions. 

I developed a severe case of laryngitis in Washing- 
ton; it got worse as I went to Baltimore and Pittsburg. 
At St. Louis, where I talked before an audience said to 
number twelve thousand persons, I could hardly raise 
my voice above a whisper. The lecture was given with 
physical anguish. I was feverish and mentally dazed. 
Thereafter, day by day, my thoughts became less coher- 
ent ; I, more like a machine. 

I do not exaggerate when I say that there was 
practically not one hour of pleasure in those troubled 
days. The dinner which was given by the Arctic 
travelers at the Waldorf-Astoria pleased me more than 
anything during the entire experience. I felt the close 
presence of hundreds of warm friends; I was conscious 
of their good will. 

I can recall the ceremony of presenting the keys of 
the City of New York to me, but I was so confused and 
half ill that I was not in a condition to appreciate the 
honor. 

After I had been on my lecture tour for a few 
weeks, I began to feel persecuted. On every side I 
sensed hostility; the sight of crowds filled me with a 
growing sort of terror. I did not realize at the time 
that I was passing from periods of mental depression to 



COPENHAGEN TO UNITED STATES 505 

dangerous periods of nervous tension. I was pursued 
by reporters, people with craning necks, good-natured 
demonstrations of friendliness that irritated me. In the 
trains I viewed the whirling landscape without, and felt 
myself part of it — as a delirious man swept and hurtled 
through space. 

I suppose I answered questions intelligently; like 
an automaton delivered my lectures, shook hands. I 
have been told I smiled pleasantly always — mentally I 



Author's Note. — I have never attempted to disprove Mr. Peary's 
claim to having reached the North Pole. I prefer to believe that Mr. 
Peary reached the North Pole. 

So avid have been my enemies, however, to cast discredit upon my 
own achievement, by such trivial and petty charges, that it seems curious 
they have never noticed or have remained silent about many striking and 
staggering discrepancies in Mr. Peary's own published account of his 
journey. 

In Mr. Peary's book, entitled "The North Pole; Its Discovery, 1909," 
published by Frederick A. Stokes Company, on page 302, appears the 
following: 

"We turned our backs upon the Pole at about four o'clock of the 
afternoon of April 7." 

According to a statement made on page 304, Mr. Peary took time on 
his return trip to take a sounding of the sea five miles from the Pole. 

On page 305, Mr. Peary says: "Friday, April 9, was a wild day. All 
day long the wind blew strong from the north-northeast, increasing finally 
to a gale." And on page 306: "We camped that night at 87° 47'." 

Mr. Peary thus claims to have traveled from the Pole to this point, a 
distance of 133 nautical miles, or 153 statute miles, in a little over two 
days. This would average 76j^ statute miles a day. Could a pedestrian 
make such speed? During this time Mr. Peary camped twice, to make 
tea, eat lunch, feed the dogs, and rest — several hours in each camp. 

Why I should never have gone out of sight of land for more than 
two days, as he has jharged, when such miraculous speed can be made on the 
circumpolar sea, is something Mr. Peary might find interesting reasons to 
explain. 

On page 310, Mr. Peary says: "We were coming down the North 
Pole hill in fine shape now, and another double march, April 16-17, brought 
us to our eleventh upward camp at 85° 8', one hundred and twenty-one 
miles from Cape Columbia." 

According to this, Mr. Peary covered the distance from 87° 47', on 
April 9, to 85° 8', on April 17 — a distance of 159 nautical miles in eight 
day. This averaged twenty miles a day. 

On page 316, he says: "It was almost exactly six o'clock on the 
morning of April 23 when we reached the igloo of 'Crane City,' at Cape 
Columbia, and the work was done." 



506 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

was never conscious of a smile. It is strange how, ma- 
chine-like, a man can conduct himself like a reasonable 
being when, mentally, he is at sea. I have read a great 
deal about the subconscious mind; on no other theory 
can I account for my rational conduct in public at the 
time. Really, as I view myself from the angle of the 
present, I marvel that a man so distraught did not do 
desperate things. 



Mr. Peary left 85° 8' on April 17, according to his statement, and 
traveled 121 miles to Cape Columbia in six days, arriving on April 23. 
This last stretch was at the rate of twenty miles a day. To sum up, he 
traveled from the North Pole, according to his statements, to land, as 
follows : 

The first 133 nautical miles southward in two days, at the rate of 
66 nautical miles, or 76j^ statute miles, a day; the last 279 nautical miles 
in fourteen days, an average of 20 miles a day. 

According to Peary's book, Bartlett left him at 87° 46', and Mr. 
Peary started on his final spurt to the Pole a little after midnight on the 
morning of April 2. By arriving at the point where he left Bartlett on the 
evening of April 9, he would have made the distance of 270 miles to 
the Pole from this point and back, in a little over seven days. 

In the New York World of October 3, 1910, page 3, column 6, Matthew 
Henson makes the following statement: "On the way up we had to break 
a trail, and averaged only eighteen to twenty miles a day. On the way 
back we had our own trail to within one hundred miles of land, and then 
Captain Bartlett's trail. We made from twenty to forty miles a day." 

At the rate of twenty miles a day on the way up, which Henson 
claims was made, it would have taken 6 days and 18 hours to cover the 
distance of 135 miles from 87° 47' to the Pole. Adding the thirty hours 
Mr. Peary claims he spent at the Pole for observations, eight days would 
have elapsed before they started back. Peary says the round trip of 270 
miles from 87° 47' N. to the Pole and the return to the same latitude was 
done in seven days and a few hours. 

Why has Mr. Peary never been asked to explain his miraculous speed 
and the discrepancy between his statement and Henson's? 

Henson was Mr. Peary's sole witness. When Mr. Peary, in a framed- 
up document, endeavors to disprove my claim by quoting my Eskimos, it 
would be just as fair to apply Henson's words to disprove Peary. 

Moreover, inasmuch as Mr. Peary's partisans attacked my speed 
limits when I made my first reports, does it not seem curious indeed that 
they now accept as infallible, and ex cathedra, the published reports of 
the almost supernatural feat in covering distance made by Mr. Peary? 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 

PEAEY AND HIS PAST HIS DEALING WITH RIVAL EXPLOR- 
ERS THE DEATH OF ASTRUP THE THEFT OF THE 

"GREAT IRON STONE," THE NATIVES'" SOLE SOURCE OF 
IRON 

XXXIII 

Actions Which Call for Investigation 

Aiming to be retired from the Navy as a Captain, 
with a comfortable pension; aiming eventually to wear 
the stripes of a Rear- Admiral, which necessitated a pro- 
motion over the heads of others in the normal line of 
advancement, a second Polar victory, which was all that 
Peary could honestly claim, was not sufficient. Some- 
thing must be done to destroy in the public eye the 
merits of my achievement for the first attainment of the 
Pole. I had reached the Pole on April 21, 1908. Mr. 
Peary's claims were for April 6, 1909, a year later. To 
destroy the advantage of priority of my conquest, and 
to establish himself as the first and only one who had 
reached the Pole, was now the one predominant effort 
to which Mr. Peary and his coterie of conspirators set 
themselves. To this end the cables were now made to 
burn with an abusive campaign, which the press, eager 
for sensations, took up from land's end to land's end, 



508 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

even to the two worlds. The wireless operators picked 
up messages that were being thrown from ship to ship 
and from point to point. Each carried unkind insinua- 
tions coming from the lips of Mr. Peary. The press 
and the public were induced to believe that Peary's 
words came from one who was himself above the shadow 
of suspicion. Their efforts, however, as we will see 
later, did not differ from the battle of envy forced 
against others before me, but it was now done more 
openly. 

It was difficult to remain silent against such world- 
wide slanders. But I reasoned that truth would ulti- 
mately prevail, and that the rebound of the American 
spirit of fair play would quell the storm. 

I had known for nearly a quarter of a century the 
man for whom the press now attacked me. I had served 
on two of his expeditions without pay; I had watched 
his successes and his failures; I had admired his strong 
qualities, and I had shivered with the shocks of his 
wrongdoings. But still I did not feel that anything 
was to be gained by retaliative abuse; and the truth 
about him, out of charity, I hesitated to tell. No, I 
argued, this warfare of the many against one, under the 
dictates of envy, must ultimately bring to light its own 
injustice. 

I had always reasoned that a quiet, dignified, non- 
assailing bearing would be most effective in a battle of 
this kind. Contrary to the general belief at the time, 
this was not done out of respect for Mr. Peary; it 
seemed the best means to a worthier end. But I did not 
know at this time that the press, dog-like, jumps upon 
him who maintains a non-attacking attitude. In mod- 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 509 

ern times, the old Christian philosophy of turning the 
other cheek, as I have found, does not give the desired 
results. 

The press, which, at my home-coming, had lavished 
praise and glowing panegyric, now, as promptly, swung 
completely around and heaped upon my head terms 
of opprobrium and obloquy. Faked news items were 
issued to discredit me by Peary's associates; editors 
devoted space to jibes and sarcasms at my expense; 
clever writers and cartoonists did their best to make my 
name a humorous byword with my countrymen. Much 
of this I did not know until long after. 

The suddenness of all this — the terrible injustice 
and unreasonableness of it — simply overwhelmed me. 
Arriving from the cruel North, completely spent in 
body and in mind, the rest that I was urgently in need 
of had been constantly denied me. Instead, I had been 
caught up and held within a perfect maelstrom of excite- 
ment. That excitement still ran like fever in my veins. 
The plaudits of the multitude were still ringing in my 
ears when this horror of a world's contumely burst on 
my head. I could only bow my head and let the storm 
spend itself about me. Sick at heart and dazed in mind, 
conscious only of a vague disgust with all the world and 
myself, I longed for respite and forgetfulness within 
the bosom of my family. 

So, quietly, I decided to retire for a year, out of 
reach of the yellow papers; out of reach of the grind of 
the pro-Peary mill of infamy, still maintaining silence 
rather than stoop to the indignity of showing up the 
dark side of Mr. Peary's character. Having returned, 
I hesitate to do it now; but the weaving of the leprous 



510 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

blanket of infamy with which Peary and his supporters 
attempted to cover me cannot be understood unless we 
look through Mr. Peary's eyes — regard other explorers 
as he regarded them; regard the North as his inalien- 
able property as he did, and regard his infamous, high- 
handed injustices as right. 

I have now decided to uncover the incentive of this 
one-sided fight to which I have so long maintained a 
non-attacking attitude. I had hoped, almost against 
hope, that the public would ultimately understand, 
without a word from me, the humbug of the mudslingers 
who were attempting to defame my character. I had 
felt sure that the hand which did the besmearing was 
silhouetted clearly against the blackness of its own mak- 
ing. But the storm of a sensation-seeking press later 
so thickened the atmosphere that the public, from which 
one has a sure guarantee of fair play, was denied a 
clear view. 

Now that the storm has spent its force; now that 
the hand which did the mudslinging has within its grasp 
the unearned gain which it sought; now that a clear 
point of observation can be presented, I am compelled, 
with much reluctance and distaste, to reveal the 
unpleasant and unknown past of the man who tried to 
ruin me; showing how unscrupulous and brutal he was 
to others before me; with evidence in hand, I shall 
reveal how he wove his web of defamation and how his 
friends conspired with him in the darkest, meanest and 
most brazen conspiracy in the history of exploration. 

In doing this, my aim is not to challenge Mr. 
Peary's claim, but to throw light on unwritten pages of 
history, which pages furnish the key to unlock the long- 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 511 

closed door of the Polar controversy and the pro-Peary 
conspiracy. 

From the earliest days, Mr. Peary's effort to reach 
the Pole was undertaken primarily for purposes of 
personal commercial gain. For twenty years he has 
passed the hat along lines of easy money. That hat 
would be passing to-day if the game had not been, in the 
opinion of many, spoiled by my success. 

For nearly twenty years he sought to be promoted 
over the heads of stay-at-home but hardworking naval 
officers. During all of this time, while on salary as a 
naval officer, he was away engaged in private enter- 
prises from which hundreds of thousands of dollars went 
into his pockets. By wire-pulling and lobbying he 
succeeded in having the American Navy pay him an un- 
earned salary. Such a man could not afford to divide 
the fruits of Polar attainment with another. 

In 1891, as the steamer Kite went north, Mr. Peary 
began to evince the brutal, selfish spirit which later was 
shown to every explorer who had the misfortune to cross 
his trail. Nansen had crossed Greenland; his splendid 
success was in the public eye. Mr. Peary attempted to 
belittle the merited applause by saying that Nansen had 
borrowed the "Peary system." But Peary had bor- 
rowed the Nordenskiold system, without giving credit. 
A few months later, Mr. John M. Verhoeff, the meteo- 
rologist of the Kite expedition, was accorded such un- 
brotherly treatment that he left his body in a glacial 
crevasse in preference to coming home on the same ship 
with Mr. Peary. This man had paid $2,000 for the 
privilege of being Peary's companion. 

Eivind Astrup, another companion of Peary, a few 



512 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

years later was publicly denounced because he had 
written a book on his own scientific observations and 
did work which Peary had himself neglected to do. 
This attempt to discredit a young, sensitive explorer 
was followed by his mental unbalancement and suicide. 
About 1897, Peary took from the people of the 
Farthest North the Eskimos' treasured "Star Stone." 
At some remote period in the unknown history of the 
frigid North, thousands of years ago, when, possibly, 
the primitive forefathers of the Eskimos were perishing 
from inability to obtain food in that fierce war waged 
between Nature and crude, blindly struggling, abo- 
riginal life because of a lack of weapons with which to 
kill, there swiftly, roaringly, descended from the mys- 
terious skies a gigantic meteoric mass of burning, white- 
hot iron. Whence it came, those dazed and startled 
people knew not ; they regarded it, as their descendants 
have regarded it, with baffled mystified terror; later, 
with reverence, gratitude, and a feeling akin to awe. 
Gazing skyward, in the long, starlit nights, there un- 
doubtedly welled up surgingly in the wild hearts of 
these innocent, Spartan children of nature, a feeling of 
vague, instinctive wonder at the Power which swung 
the boreal lamps in heaven; which moves the worlds in 
space; which sweeps in the northern winds, and which, 
for the creatures of its creation, apparently consciously, 
and often by means seemingly miraculous, provides 
methods of obtaining the sources of life. As the meteor 
and its two smaller fragments cooled, the natives, by 
the innate and adaptive ingenuity of aboriginal man, 
learned to chip masses from it, from which were shaped 
knives and arrows and spearheads. It became their 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 513 

mine of treasure, more precious than gold; it was their 
only means of making weapons for obtaining that which 
sustained life. With new weapons, they developed the 
art of spear-casting and arrow-throwing. As the cen- 
turies passed, animals fell easy prey to their skill; the 
starvation of elder ages gave way to plenty. 

The arm of God, it is said in the Scriptures, is long. 
From the far skies it extended to these people of an 
ice-sheeted, rigorous land, that they might survive, this 
miraculous treasure. It seemed, however, that the arm 
of man, in its greed, proved likewise long; and as the 
strange providence which gave these people their chief 
means of killing was kind, so the arm of man was cruel. 

In 1894, R. E. Peary, regarding the Arctic world 
as his own, the people as his vassals, came north, and a 
year later took from these natives, without their con- 
sent, the two smaller fragments. In 1897 he took "The 
Tent," or Great Iron Stone, the natives' last and one 
source of mineral wealth and ancestral treasure. That 
it was these people's great source of securing metal 
meant nothing to him; that it was a scientific curio, 
whereby he might secure a specious credit from the 
well-fed armchair gentlemen of science at home, meant 
much to the man who later did not hesitate to employ 
methods of dishonor to try to secure exclusive credit of 
the achievement of the Pole. Just as he later tried to 
rob me of honor, so he ruthlessly took from these people 
a thing that meant abundance of game — and game 
there meant life. 

The great "Iron Stone" was hauled aboard the 
S. S. Hope, and brought to New York. Today it re- 
poses in the Museum of Natural History — a bulky, 



514 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

black heap of metal, which can be viewed any day by the 
well-fed and curious. In the North, where he will 
not go again to give his mythical "abundance of guns 
and ammunition," the Eskimos need the metal which 
was sold to Mrs. Morris K. Jesup (who presented it to 
the museum) for $40,000. That money went into Mr. 
Peary's pockets. In a land where laws existed this act 
would be regarded as a high-handed, monumental and 
dishonorable theft. One who might attempt now to 
purloin the ill-gotten hulk from the museum would be 
prosecuted. Taken from the people to whose ances- 
tors it was sent, as if by a providence that is divine, and 
to whom it meant life, it gave Mr. Peary so-called scien- 
tific honors among his friends. In the name of religion, 
it has been said, many crimes have been committed. It 
remained for this man to reveal what atrocious things 
could be done in the fair name of science. 

At about the same time a group of seven or eight 
Eskimos were put aboard a ship against their will and 
brought to New York for museum purposes. They 
were locked up in a cellar in New York, awaiting a 
market place. Before the profit-time arrived, because 
of unhygienic surroundings and improper food, all but 
one died. When in the grip of death, through a Mrs. 
Smith, who ministered to their last wants, they 
appealed with tears in their eyes for some word from 
Mr. Peary. They begged that he extend them the 
attention of visiting them before their eyes closed to a 
world of misery and trouble. There came no word and 
no responsive call from the man who was responsible 
for their suffering. Of seven or eight innocent wild 
people, but one little child survived. That one — 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 515 

Mene — was later even denied a passage back to his 
fathers' land by Mr. Peary. 

A few years later, the Danish Literary Expedition 
visited the northernmost Eskimos in their houses. The 
splendid hospitality shown the Danes by the Eskimos 
saved their lives. The Danish people, aiming to 
express their gratitude for this unselfish Eskimo kind- 
ness, sent a ship to their shores on the following year, 
loaded with presents, at an expenditure of many thou- 
sands of kroner. That ship, under the direction of Cap- 
tain Schoubye, left at North Star great quantities of 
food, iron and wood. After the Danes had turned their 
backs, Mr. Peary came along and deliberately, high- 
handedly, took many of the things. This story is told 
today by every member of the tribe whom Peary claims 
to have befriended, whom he calls "my people." 

The sad story of the unavoidable deaths by starva- 
tion of the members of General Greely's Expedition has 
for years been issued and reissued to the press by Mr. 
Peary and his press agents, in such form as to discredit 
General Greely and his co-workers. His own inhuman 
doings about Cape Sabine and the old Greely stamping- 
grounds have been suppressed. 

In 1901 the ship Erie left Mr. Peary, with a large 
group of native helpers, near Cape Sabine. An 
epidemic, brought by the Peary ship, soon after attacked 
the Eskimos. Many died; others survived to endure a 
slow torture. Peary had no doctor and no medicine. 
In the year previous, Peary had shown the same spirit 
to the ever faithful Dr. Dedrick that he had shown to 
Verhoeff , to Astrup, and to others. Although Dedrick 
could not endure Peary's unfairness, he remained, 



516 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

against instructions, within reach for just such an 
emergency as this epidemic presented. He offered his 
services when the epidemic broke out, but Peary refused 
his offer, and allowed the natives to die rather than 
permit a competent medical expert to attend the 
afflicted. 

Near the same point, a year later, Captain Otto 
Sverdrup wintered with his ship. His mission was to 
explore the great unknown to the west. This unex- 
plored country had been under Mr. Peary's eye for ten 
years ; but instead of exploring it, his time was spent in 
an easy and comparatively luxurious life about a 
comfortable camp. When Sverdrup's men visited the 
Peary ship, they were denied common brotherly cour- 
tesy and were refused the hospitality which is universally 
granted, by an unwritten law, to all field workers. Mr. 
Peary even refused to send him, on his returning ship, 
important letters and papers which Sverdrup desired 
taken back. He also refused to allow Sverdrup to take 
native guides and dogs — which did not belong to Mr. 
Peary. This same courtesy was later denied to Cap- 
tain Bernier, of the Canadian Expedition. 

Thus attempting to make a private preserve of the 
unclaimed North, he attempted to discredit and thwart 
every other explorer's effort. In line with the same 
policy, every member of every Peary expedition has 
been muzzled with a contract which prevented talking 
or writing after the expedition's return — contracts by 
which Mr. Peary derived the sole credit, the entire 
profit, and all the honor of the results of the men who 
volunteered their services and risked their lives. This 
same spirit was shown at the time when, at 87° 45", he 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 517 

turned Captain Bartlett back, because he (Peary), to 
use bis own words, "wanted all the honors." 

In profiting by his long quest for funds for legiti- 
mate exploration, we find Peary engaged in private 
enterprises for which public funds were used. Much of 
this money was, in my judgment, used to promote a 
lucrative fur and ivory trade, while the real effort of 
getting to the Pole was delayed, seemingly, for com- 
mercial gain. I believe the Pole might have been 
reached ten years earlier. But delay was profitable. 

After being thus engaged for years in a propa- 
ganda of self-exploitation, in assailing other explorers 
whom he regarded as rivals, in committing deeds in the 
North unworthy of an American and officer of the 
Navy, Peary, knowing that I had started Poleward, 
knowing that relief must inevitably be required, ulti- 
mately appropriated my supplies, and absolutely pre- 
vented any effort to reach me, which even the natives 
themselves might have made. Peary knew he was 
endangering my life. He knew that he was getting 
ivory and furs in return for supplies belonging to me, 
and which I should need. He knew, also, that it would 
not coincide with his selfish purposes of appropriating 
all honor and profit if I reached the Pole and should 
return and tell the world. His deliberate act was in 
itself — whether so designed or not — an effort to kill a 
brother explorer. The stains of at least a dozen other 
lives are on this man. 

The property which Peary took from Francke and 
myself, with the hand of a buccaneer and the heart of a 
hypocrite, was worth thirty-five thousand dollars. This 
was done, not to insure expedition needs, but to satisfy 



518 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

a hunger for commercial gain, and to inflict a cowardly, 
underhanded injury on a rival. All of my caches, my 
camp equipment, my food, were taken; and under his 
own handwriting he gave the orders which deprived me 
of all relief efforts at a time when relief was of vital 
importance. Certainly to all appearances this was a 
deliberate, preconceived plan to kill a rival worker by 
starvation. Here we find an American naval officer 
stooping to a trick for which he would be hanged in a 
mining camp. 

Many members of his expeditions, some rough sea- 
men, speak with shuddering of his actions in that far- 
away North. In my possession are affidavits, volun- 
tarily made and given to me by members of Mr. Peary's 
expeditions, revealing gross actions, which, in an officer 
of the Navy, call for investigation. Mention has been 
made of certain facts, because, only by knowing these 
things, can people understand the spirit and character 
of the man and the unscrupulous attacks made upon 
me, and understand, also, why, out of a sense of deli- 
cacy and dislike for mudslinging, I remained silent so 
long. It is only because the public has been misled by 
a sensational press, because I realize I have suffered by 
my own silence, in order that history may know the full 
truth and accord a just verdict, that with reluctance, 
with a sense of shuddering distaste, I have been com- 
pelled to present these unpleasant pages of unwritten 
Arctic history. 

When Mr. Peary and his partisans attacked me 
they hesitated at nothing that was untrue, cruel and 
dishonorable — forgery and perjury even seemed justi- 
fiable to them in their effort to discredit me. I still 



THE KEY TO THE CONTROVERSY 519 

hesitate to speak of certain unworthy, unblushing and 
utterly cruel acts of which Mr. Peary is guilty. I 
would have preferred to remain silent about the actions 
of which I have told. 

Assuming the attitude of one above reproach, Peary, 
upon his return, assailed me as a dishonest person who 
tried to rob him of honor. Had the actual and full 
truths been told at the time about Peary's life in the 
North, his charges would have rebounded annihilatingly 
upon himself. For certain things the people of this 
country, who are clean, honest and fair, will not stand. 
The facts told about Peary in the affidavits given me 
make his charges of dishonor and dishonesty against 
me a travesty, indeed. Yet, at a time when 1 might 
have profited by revealing phases of Mr. Peary's per- 
sonal character, I preferred to remain silent. Of cer- 
tain things men do not care to speak. Although Mr. 
Peary and his friends endeavored to make the Polar 
controversy a personal one, I regarded Mr. Peary's 
personal actions as having no bearing upon his, or my, 
having attained the Pole. He and his friends forced a 
personal fight; they tried to injure my veracity, my 
reputation for truth-telling, my personal honor. I had 
hoped against hope that the truth would resolve itself 
without any necessity of my revealing elements of Mr. 
Peary's character. I have herein recited pages from his 
past, known to Arctic explorers but not to the general 
public, so that his attitude toward me may be under- 
stood. Yet all, indeed, has not been told. Although^ 
Mr. Peary did not scruple to he about me, I still hesitate 
to tell the full truth about him. 

In the white, frozen North a tragedy was enacted 



520 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

which would bring tears to the hearts of all who possess 
human tenderness and kindness. This has never been 
written. To write it would still further reveal the ruth- 
lessness, the selfishness, the cruelty of the man who tried 
to ruin me. Yet here I prefer the charity of silence, 
where, indeed, charity is not at all merited. 

The knowledge of these facts tempered the shocks 
I felt when the Peary campaign of defamation was 
first made against me. I told myself that a man who 
had done these things would, in the nature of things, be 
branded by the truth, as he deserved. 

I was not so greatly surprised that Peary tried to 
steal my honor. I knew that he had stolen tangible 
things. Yet the theft of food, even though a man's life 
depends upon it, is not so awful as the attempt to steal 
the good name a father hopes to bequeath his children. 
Yet Peary has attempted to do this. 

With a trail of cruelty, deceit and dishonor behind 
him, could such a man be honest when he looks covet- 
ously upon anything he desires? With this peep behind 
the scenes, let us examine the slinging of mud by 
unclean hands; let us examine the venomous slurs from 
unclean lips, as the forced fight now proceeded. 




THE MOTHER OF SEALS AND HER DESERTED CHILD 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 

THE BRIBED, FAKED AND FORGED NEWS ITEMS — THE PRO- 
PEARY MONEY POWERS ENCOURAGE PERJURY — MT. 
M'KINLEY HONESTLY CLIMBED — HOW, FOR PEARY, 
A SIMILAR PEAK WAS FAKED 

XXXIV 

How a Man's Soul Was Marketed. 

After Mr. Peary had done his utmost to try to 
disprove my Polar attainment ; after the chain of news- 
papers which, for him, in conjunction with the New 
York Times, had printed the same egregious lies on the 
same days, from the Atlantic to the Pacific ; after they 
had expended all possible ammunition, the damages 
inflicted were still insufficient. My narrative, as pub- 
lished in the New York Herald, was still more generally 
credited than Mr. Peary's. To gain his end, something 
else had to be done. Something else was done. The 
darkest page of defamation in the world's history of 
exploration was now written by the hands of bribers 
and perjurers. 

The public suddenly turned from the newspaper- 
inculcated idea of "proof" in figures to a more sane 
examination of personal veracity. To destroy my 
reputation for truth in the public mind was the next 



522 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

unscrupulous effort decided upon. The selfish and 
self-evident press campaign, obviously managed by the 
Peary cabal, to that end had given unsatisfactory re- 
sults. Some vital blow must be delivered by fair means 
or otherwise. 

The climb of Mt. McKinley was now challenged. 

I had made a first ascent of the great mid- Alaskan 
peak in 1906. The record of that conquest was pub- 
lished during my absence in the North, under the title, 
"To the Top of the Continent." The book, being 
printed at a time when I was unable to see the proofs, 
contained some mistakes ; but in it was all the data that 
could be presented for such an undertaking. 

The Board of Aldermen of the City of New York 
decided to honor me by offering the keys and the free- 
dom of the metropolis on October 15. This was to be 
an important event. The pro-Peary conspiracy aiming 
to deliver striking blows through the press, their propa- 
ganda was so planned that the bribed, faked and forged 
news items were issued on days which gave them 
dramatic and psychologic climaxes. Two days before 
the New York demonstration in my favor, the preten- 
tious full-page broadside of distorted Eskimo informa- 
tion was issued. This fell flat ; for it was instantly seen 
to be a pretentious rearrangement of old charges. But 
it was so played up as to fill columns of newspaper 
space and impress readers by its magnitude. This was 
followed by the Barrill affidavit, similarly played up so 
as to fill a full newspaper page, which I shall analyze 
later. All this was done to draw a black cloud 
over the day of honor in New York, the 15th day of 
October. 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 523 

Since the published affidavit of my old associate, 
Barrill, was a document which proved him a self- 
confessed liar; since the affidavit carried with it the 
earmarks of pro-Peary bribery and perjury, I reasoned 
again that fair-minded people would in time see through 
this moneyed campaign of dishonor. In all history it 
has been shown that he who seeks to besmear others 
usually leaves the greatest amount of mud on himself. 
But again I had not counted on the unfairness of the 
press. 

The only reason given that I should have faked the 
climb of Mt. McKinley is that, in some vague way, I 
was to profit mightily by a successful report. The 
expedition was to have been financed by a rich Phila- 
delphia sportsman. He did advance the greater por- 
tion of the sum required. We were to prepare a game 
trail for him. Something interfered, he relinquished his 
trip, and did not send the balance of money promised. 

The result was that many checks I had given out 
went to protest. Harper & Brothers had agreed, before 
starting, to pay me $1,500 for an account of the expedi- 
tion, whether successful or not. On my return this was 
paid, and went to meet outstanding debts — debts to pay 
which I embarrassed myself. Instead of "profits" from 
this alleged "fake," I suffered a loss of several thousand 
dollars. 

As is quite usual in all exploring expeditions, some 
of the members of my Mt. McKinley expedition, who 
did not share in the final success, were disgruntled. 
Chief among these was Herschell Parker. Owing to 
ill-health and inexperience, Parker had proved himself 
inefficient in Alaskan work. Climbing a little peak 



524 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

forty miles from the great mountain, when he was with 
me, he had pronounced Mt. McKinley unclimbable. 
Climbing a similar hill, four years later, he stooped to 
the humbug of offering a photograph of it as a parallel 
to my picture of the top of Mt. McKinley. This man 
was so ill-fitted for such work that two men were re- 
quired to help him mount a horse. But I insisted that 
we continue at least to the base of the mountain. At 
the first large glacier, Parker and his companion, 
Belmore Brown, balked, halting in front of an insignifi- 
cant ice-wall. The ascent of Mt. McKinley, still thirty- 
five miles off, they said, was impossible. Parker re- 
turned, and in a trail of four thousand miles to New 
York told every press representative how impossible was 
the ascent of Mt. McKinley. By the time Parker 
reached New York a cable went through that the thing 
was done. At a point four thousand miles from the 
scene of action, he again cried, "Impossible!" When I 
returned to New York, however, a month later, and 
Parker learned the details, he publicly and privately 
credited my ascent of Mt. McKinley. Nothing further 
was said to doubt the climb until two years later, when 
he lined up with the Peary interests. 

Using Parker as a tool, Peary's Arctic Club, 
through him, first forced the side-issue of Mt. McKin- 
ley. With the Barrill affidavit, made later, were 
printed other affidavits by Barrill's friends, who had not 
been within fifty miles of the mountain when it was 
climbed. This act, to me, was a bitter climax of injus- 
tice. But I have since learned that Printz got $500 of 
pro-Peary money; that both Miller and Beecher were 
promised large amounts, but were cheated at the "show- 



THE MT. McKlNLEY BRIBERY 525 

down." Printz afterwards wrote that he would make 
an affidavit for me for $300, and at Missoula he made 
an affidavit in which he attempted to defend me.* This 
he offered to sell to Roscoe Mitchell for $1,000. 

While easy pro-Peary money was passing in the 
West, Parker came forward with his old grudge. His 
chief contention was that, because he had taken home 
with him in deserting the object of the expedition a 
hypsometer, I could not have measured the high alti- 
tudes claimed. The altitude had been measured by 
triangulation by the hydrographer of the expedition, 
but I had other methods of measuring the ascent. 

I had two aneroid barometers, specially marked for 
very high climbing, thermometers, and all the usual 
Alpine instruments. The hypsometer was not at that 
time an important instrument. Parker also showed 
unfair methods by allowing the press repeatedly to print 
that he had been the leader and the organizer of the 
expedition. This he knew to be false. I had organized 
two expeditions to explore Mt. McKinley, at a cost of 
$28,000. Of this Parker had furnished $2,500. Parker 
took no part in the organization of the last expedition, 
had given no advice to help supply an adequate equip- 
ment, and in the field his presence was a daily handicap 
to the progress of the expedition. Heretofore, this was 



•Letter from Barrill's associate: 

Missoula, Mont., Oct. 12, 1909. 
Friend Cook — I am sorry that I can't come at present. But will come 
and see you in about fifteen days - If you will send me Three Hundred and 
Fifty ($350.00), and I will say that the report in the papers (that Dr. 
Cook did not ascend Mt. McKinley), from what I have, is not true. 
Hoping to see you soon. 

Your friend, 

(Signed) Feed Pbintz. 



526 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

never indicated. But when he allows himself to be 
quoted as the leader of an expedition upon which he 
attempts to throw discredit, then it is right that all the 
facts be known. 

In the press reports, when Parker was first heard 
from, came the news that on the Pacific coast, at 
Tacoma, a lawyer by the name of J. M. Ashton was 
retained by someone. To the press Ashton said he was 
engaged "to look into the McKinley business," but he 
did not know by whom — whether by Cook or Peary. 
He was "engaged" in a business too questionable to tell 
who furnished the money. 

In the final ascent of Mt. McKinley there was with 
me Edward Barrill, the affidavit-maker. He was a 
good-natured and hard-working packer, who had 
proved himself a most able climber. Together we 
ascended the mountain in September, 1906. To this 
time (1909) there was not the slightest doubt about the 
footprints on the top of the great mountain. Barrill 
had told everybody that he knew, and all who would 
listen to him, that the mountain was climbed. He went 
from house to house boastfully, with my book under his 
arm, telling and retelling the story of the ascent of Mt. 
McKinley. That anyone should now believe the affi- 
davit, secured and printed for Peary, did not to me 
seem reasonable. 

Parker, filling the position of betrayer and traitor 
to one who had saved his life many times, had decided, 
as the Polar controversy opened, to direct the Mt. 
McKinley side-issue of the pro-Peary effort. 

The first news of bribery in the matter came from 
Darby, Montana. This was Barrill's home town. A 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 527 

Peary man from Chicago was there. He frankly said 
that he would pay Barrill $1,000 to offer news that 
would discredit the climb of Mt. McKinley. Other 
news of the dishonest pro-Peary movement induced me 
to send Roscoe Mitchell, of the New York Herald, to 
the working ground of the bribers. Mitchell was 
working under the direction of my attorneys, H. Well- 
ington Wack, of New York, Colonel Marshal, of 
Missoula, and General Weed, of Helena, Montana. 

Mitchell secured testimony and evidence regarding 
the buying of Barrill, but was unable to put the con- 
spirators in jail. At Hamilton, Montana, there had 
appeared a man with $5,000 to pass to Barrill. Bar- 
rill's first reply was that he had climbed the mountain; 
that Dr. Cook had climbed the mountain; that to take 
that $5,000, in his own words, he "would have to sell his 
own soul." Barrill's business partner, Bridgeford, 
was present. He later made an affidavit for Mr. 
Mitchell covering this part of the pro-Peary perjury 
effort. 

A little later, however, Barrill said to his partner 
he "might as well see what was in it." Five thousand 
dollars to Barrill meant more than five million dollars to 
Mr. Peary or his friends. To Barrill, ignorant, poor, 
good-natured, but weak, it was an irresistible 
temptation. 

Barrill now went to Seattle. He visited the office 
of the Seattle Times. In the presence of the editor, 
Mr. Joe Blethen, he dickered for the sale of an affidavit 
to discredit me. He knew such an affidavit had news 
value. Indefinite offers ranging from $5,000 to $10,000 
were made. Not getting a lump sum off-hand, Barrill, 



528 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

dissatisfied, then went over to Tacoma, to the mysterious 
Mr. Ashton. That all this was done, was told me on 
my trip west shortly afterward, by Mr. Blethen himself. 

After visiting Ashton, Barrill was seen in a bank 
in Tacoma. Barrill had said to his partner that to make 
an affidavit denying my climb would be "selling his 
soul." Barrill, ill at ease, reluctant, appeared. It is a 
terrible thing to lure a weak man to dishonor; it is still 
more tragic and awful when that man is bought so his 
lie may hurt another. The time for the parting of his 
soul had arrived in the bank. With the sadness of a 
funeral mourner Barrill was pushed along. The talk was 
in a muffled undertone. But it all happened. In the pres- 
ence of a witness, whose evidence I am ready to produce, 
$1,500 was passed to him. This money was paid in 
large bills, and placed in Barrill's money-belt. There 
were other considerations, and I know where some of 
this money was spent. His soul was marketed as last. 
The infamous affidavit was then prepared. 

This affidavit was printed first in the New York 
Globe. The Globe is partly owned and entirely con- 
trolled by General Thomas H. Hubbard, the President 
of the Peary Club. With General Hubbard, Mr. Peary 
had consulted at Bar Harbor immediately after his 
return from Sydney. Together they had outlined their 
campaign. General Hubbard is a multi-millionaire. 
A tremendous amount of money was spent in the Peary 
campaign. In the Mt. McKinley affidavit of Barrill 
we can trace bribery, a conspiracy, and black dishonor, 
right up to the door of R. E. Peary. 

If Peary is not the most unscrupulous self-seeker 
in the history of exploration, caught in underhand, sur- 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 529 

reptitious acts too cowardly to be credited to a thief, 
caught in the act of bartering for men's souls and honor 
in as ruthless a way as he high-handedly took others' 
property in the North; if he, drawing an unearned 
salary from the American Navy, has not brindled his 
soul with stripes that fit his body for jail, let him come 
forward and reply. If Peary is not the most con- 
scienceless of self -exploiters in all history, caught in the 
act of stealing honor by forcing dishonor, let him come 
forward and explain the Mt. McKinley perjury. 

Now let us examine the others who were lined up 
in this desperate black hand movement. In New 
York there is a club, at first organized to bring explor- 
ers together and to encourage original research. It 
bore the name of Explorers' Club ; but, as is so often the 
case with clubs that monopolize a pretentious name, the 
membership degenerated. It is now merely an associa- 
tion of museum collectors. Among real explorers, 
this club to-day is jocularly known as the "Worm 
Diggers' Union." In 1909 Mr. Peary was president. 
His press agent, Bridgman, was the moving spirit, and 
one of Colonel Mann's muck-rakers was secretary. Of 
course, such a society, committed to Peary, had no use 
for Dr. Cook. 

In a spirit of helping along the pro-Peary con- 
spiracy, and after the Barrill affidavit was secured, the 
Explorers' Club took upon itself the superrogatory 
duty of appointing a committee to pass on my ascent of 
Mt. McKinley. There was but one real explorer on 
this committee. The others were kitchen geographers, 
whose honor and fairness had been bartered to the Peary 
interests before the investigation began. Without a 



530 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

line of data before them, they decided, with glee and 
gusto, that Mt. McKinley had not been climbed. This 
was what one would expect from such an honor-blind 
group of meddlers. But Mr. Peary's press worker, 
Bridgman, who himself had engineered the investiga- 
tion, used this seeming verdict of experts to Mr. Peary's 
advantage.* 

Still all these combined underhanded efforts failed 
to reach vital spots and to turn the entire public Mr. 
Peary's way. Something more must still be done, 
Peary's press agent offered $3,000, and the bribing 
Ashton, of Tacoma, offered another $3,000, to send an 
expedition to Alaska, to further the pro-Peary effort to 
down a rival. The traitor, Parker, responded. He was 
joined by the other quitter, Belmore Brown, who has 
conveniently forgotten to return borrowed money to me. 
This Peary-Parker-Brown combination went to Alaska 
in 1910, engaged in mining pursuits and hunting adven- 
tures. They returned with the expected and framed re- 
port that Mt. McKinley had not been climbed, and that 
they had climbed a snow-hill, had photographed it, and 
that the photograph was similar to mine of the topmost 
peak of Mt. McKinley. Mt. McKinley has a base twenty- 
five miles wide; it has upon the various slopes of its 
giant uplift hundreds of peaks, all glacial, polished, and 
of a similar contour. No one peak towers gigantically 
above the others. On the top are many peaks, no par- 



*WhiIe this book was going through the press, several chapters of the 
proof-sheets were found on the table of the Explorers' Club on 
June 27. It is important to note that this pro-Peary repository of bribed, 
faked and forged writings, which were issued to defame me, is also the 
den for stolen goods. Who are the thieves who congregate there to 
deposit their booty? Why the theft of a part of my book? What humbug 
has this club and its shameless president next to offer? 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 581 

ticular one of which can with any accuracy of inches be 
decided arbitrarily as the very highest. The top of a 
mountain does not converge to a pin-point apex. One 
looks out, not into immediate space on all sides, but 
over an area, as I have said, of many peaks. My 
photograph of the peak, which loomed highest among 
the others on the top, possesses a profile not unsual 
among ice-cut rocks. The Peary-Parker-Brown seek- 
ers tried hard to duplicate this photograph, so as to 
show I had faked my picture. The thing might have 
been done easily in the Canadian Rockies. It could be 
done in a dozen more accessible places in Alaska; but, 
without real work, it could be only crudely done near 
Mt. McKinley. The photograph which Peary's friends 
offered to discredit the first ascent is one of a double 
peak, part of which vaguely suggests but a poor outline 
of Mt. McKinley, and in which a rock has been faked. 
Who is responsible for this humbug? Where is the 
negative? The photograph bears no actual semblance 
to my picture of the top of Mt. McKinley whatever. 
But why was the negative faked? Parker excuses the 
evident unfairness of the dissimilar photograph by say- 
ing that he could not get the same position as I must 
have had. But is laziness or haste an excuse when a 
man's honor is assailed.t 



■{•Letter from an onlooker when Mt. McKinley was climbed: 
To Dr. Cook's Friends: 

Professor Parker says "regretfully" that Dr. Cook's evidence as to the 
ascent of Mt. McKinley was unconvincing. 

I was located in the foothills of Mt. McKinley, and had been for 
about a year, when Dr. Cook, Professor H. C. Parker, Mr. Porter, the 
topographer of the party, and Mr. Miller, Fred Printz and the rest of the 
party, landed at the head-waters of the Yentna River, in the foothills of 
Mt McKinley. 

I met Professor Parker and the rest of the party, and saw a great 



532 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

Let us follow the Peary high-handed humbugs 
further. To the southeast of Mt. McKinley is a huge 
mountain, which I named Mt. Disston in 1905. This 
peak was robbed of its name, and over it Parker wrote 
Mt. Huntington. To the northeast of Mt. McKinley 
is another peak, charted on my maps, to which Peary 
gave the name of the president of the Peary Arctic 
Trust. To this peak was given the same name, by the 
same methods of stealing the credit of other explorers, 
as that adopted by Peary when, in response to $25,000 
of easy money, he wrote the same name, "Thomas Hub- 
bard," over Sverdrup's northern point of Heiberg 



deal of them while they were up there, as I had three mining camps in 
the foothills from which they made their try for the top of the mountain. 
I let Dr. Cook have one of my Indian hunters, who knew every foot of 
the country around there, for a guide. Dr. Cook also had some of his 
caches in my camps, leaving supplies which he did not take along with 
his pack-trains. Some of Dr. Cook's party were in our camps nearly every 
day or so, and consequently I became very well posted in regard to Dr. 
Cook's affairs, and very well acquainted with him. Dr. Parker should be 
the last one to say anything about mountain-climbing or anything else 
connected with the expedition, or anything where it takes a man and pluck 
to accomplish results — good results; as he showed himself to be the rankest 
kind of a tenderfoot while in the foothills of Mt. McKinley, and was the 
laughing stock of the country. Mt. McKinley and the country around 
there was too rough for him. He got "cold feet," and started back for 
the States, before he had even seen much of the country around there. 

Looking over my memoranda, I find that Dr. Cook had given up his 
attempt to climb Mt. McKinley for the time being, and had sent Printz 
and Miller on a hunting expedition, and the rest of the party was scattered 
out to hunt up something new. 

At that time I came into Youngstown, and the boys were getting ready 
to strike out on their different routes, and Dr. Cook was going down to 
Tyonic, in Cook's Inlet, with his launch, to meet a friend, Mr. Disston, 
who expected to go on a hunting trip with him. The friend did not 
arrive, so Dr. Cook returned to the head-waters of the Yentna River, to 
Youngstown, arriving there on Monday, August 27. On Sunday, August 
28, he started down to the Sushitna River. I went down with him as far 
as the Sushitna Station, and he told me he was going to run up the river 
and strike Fish Creek, which ran up on another side of Mt. McKinley, and 
see what the chances were to make the top of the continent from that side. 
He made it. I was one of the last to see him start on the ascent, and one 
of the first to see him when he returned after he had made the ascent. 

Dr. Cook proved to be a man in every respect, as unselfish as he was 



THE MT. McKINLEY BRIBERY 533 

Land. Can it be doubted that the Peary-Parker- 
Brown propaganda of hypocrisy and dishonor in Alaska 
is guided by no other spirit than that of Mr. Peary? 

Many persons say: "We will credit Dr. Cook's 
attainment of the Pole if this Mt. McKinley matter is 
cleared up." I have heard this often. I have offered 
in my book proofs of the climb — the same proofs any 

courageous, always giving the other fellow a thought before thinking of 
himself. 

Upon his arrival from the ascent of the mountain, although tired and 
worn and in a bad physical condition himself, he gave his unlimited atten- 
tion to a party of prospectors who had been picked up from a wreck in 
the river, and brought into camp in an almost dying condition just before 
his arrival. He spent hours working over these men, and did not give 
himself a thought until they were properly cared for. 

Evidence? No man who has known Dr. Cook, been with him, worked 
with him, and learned by personal experience of his courage, energy and 
perseverance, would ask for evidence beyond his word. 

Dr. Cook is one of the most daring men, and can stand more hardships 
than any man I have ever met, and I believe I have met some of the most 
able men of the world when it comes to roughing it over the trails in 
Alaska and the North. 

Dr. Cook climbed Mt. McKinley. Of course there are always skep- 
tics — men who have a wishbone instead of a backbone, and who, when 
wishing has brought to them no good results, their last effort is pushed 
forth in criticism of the things which have been constructed or accomplished 
by men, their superiors. 

If Professor Parker wants evidence to convince him, I think he can 
find it, provided he will put himself to as much trouble in looking for 
evidence as he has in criticising such evidence as he has obtained. 
Respectfully yours, 

J. A. MacDouaij). 

VONTBIGGEB, CALIFORNIA. 

Author's Note. — It is a curious fact that most men who have assailed 
me are themselves sailing under false colors. Herschell Parker was an 
assistant professor and instructor in the Department of Physics in Columbia 
University. This gave him the advantage of using the title, "Professor," 
but, like many others, his university association was mostly for the prestige 
it gave him. His professorship assumption was, therefore, a deception. 
Instead of devoting himself conscientiously to university interests, he was, 
like Peary, engaged in private enterprises — such as the Parker-Clark light, 
and other ventures — and employed substitute instructors to do the work 
for which he drew a salary, and for which he claimed the honor and the 
prestige. A man who thus sails falsely under the banner of a professor- 
ship is just the man to try to steal the honor of other men. Here is a 
make-believe professor who is not a professor; whose dwarfed conscience is 
eased by drippings from the Arctic Trust; who has stooped to a photo- 
graphic humbug. He is a fitting exponent of the bribing pro-Peary 
propaganda. 



534 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

mountain-climber offers. To discredit these, my ene- 
mies stooped to bribery. I have in my possession, and 
have stated here, proofs of this. Such proofs are even 
more tangible than the climbing of a far-away moun- 
tain. Is any other clarifier or any other evidence 
required to prove the pro-Peary frauds? 



THE DUNKLE-LOOSE FORGERY 

ITS PEO-PEARY MAKING 

XXXV 

The Last Perjured Defamation 

With the bitterness of the money-bought document 
to shatter my veracity regarding the ascent of Mt. 
McKinley ever before me, I canceled in November all 
my lecture engagements. Mr. William M. Grey, then 
managing my tour, broke contracts covering over 
$140,000. But, for the time being, these could not be 
filled. I was nearing a stage of mental and physical 
exhaustion, and required rest. Seeking a quiet retreat, 
my wife and I left the Waldorf-Astoria and secured 
quarters at the Gramatan Inn, in Bronxville, N. Y. 
Here was prepared my report and data to be sent to 
Copenhagen. 

At this time, as if again destined by fate, innocently 
I made my greatest error, opened myself to what be- 
came the most serious and damaging charge against my 
good faith, and the misstated account of which, pub- 
lished later, was used by my enemies in their efforts 
ifo brand me as a conscious faker and deliberate fraud. 

When I now think of the incidents leading up to 
the acquaintance of Dunkle and Loose, it does seem 
that I had lost all sense of balance, and that my brain 



536 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

was befogged. Shortly before I had started West, 
Dunkle was brought to me by Mr. Bradley on the pre- 
text of wanting to talk life insurance. 

During my lecture tour threats from fanatics 
reached me, and in my nervous condition it was not 
hard for me to believe that my life was in danger. 
Then, too, it seemed that all the money I had made 
might be spent in efforts to defend myself. I decided 
to protect my wife and children by life insurance. How 
Dunkle guessed this— if he did — I do not know. But 
at just the right moment he appeared, and I fell into the 
insurance trap. 

At the time I did not know that Dunkle had been 
a professional "subscription-raiser," who, while I was 
in the North, had volunteered to raise money for a relief 
expedition — provided he was given an exorbitant per- 
centage. 

For this reason both Anthony Fiala and Dillon 
Wallace had refused to introduce him to me before he 
secured the introduction by Mr. Bradley. When Mrs. 
Cook first saw him, with feminine intuition she said : 

"Don't have anything to do with that man. I 
don't like his looks." 

I did not heed this, however. After some futile 
life insurance talk, he surprised me by saying irrele- 
vantly: 

"By the way, I have an expert navigator, a friend 
of mine, who can prove that Peary was not at the Pole." 

"I have not challenged Mr. Peary's claim," I re- 
plied, "and do not wish to. The New York Herald, 
however, may listen to what you have to say." That 
was all that was said at the time. 



THE DUNKLE-LOOSE FORGERY 537 

After my return from the western lecture tour, 
Dunkle seemed to be always around, and at every oppor- 
tunity spoke to me. He gained a measure of confidence 
by criticising the press campaign waged against me. I 
naturally felt kindly toward anyone who was sympa- 
thetic. At this time, when the problem of accurate 
observations was worrying me, when my mind was 
beginning to weigh the problem of scientific accuracy — 
again just at the psychological moment — Dunkle 
brought Loose out to the Gramatan Inn and intro- 
duced him to me, saying that he was an expert 
navigator. 

Pretending a knowledge of the situation in Europe, 
Loose told me the Danes were becoming impatient. I 
replied that I was busy preparing my report. 

"Something ought to be done in the meantime," he 
said. "Now, I have connections with some of the Scan- 
dinavian papers, and I think some friendly articles in 
the meantime would allay this unrest." 

The idea seemed reasonable; anything that would 
help me was welcome, and I told Loose, if he wanted to, 
that he might go ahead. He visited me several times, 
and broached the subject of the possible outcome of the 
Copenhagen verdict. By this time I felt fairly friendly 
with him. Finally he brought me several articles. 
They seemed weak and irrelevant. Lonsdale read 
them, said there was not much to them, but that they 
might help. Loose mailed the articles — or said he did. 
Then, to my amazement, he made the audacious sugges- 
tion that I let him go over my material. I flatly 
refused. 

He pointed out, what I myself had been thinking 



638 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

about, that all observations were subject to extreme 
inaccuracy. He suggested his working mine out back- 
ward to verify them. As I regarded him as an experi- 
enced navigator, I thought this of interest. I was not 
a navigator, and, moreover, had had no chance of check- 
ing my figures. So, desiring an independent view, and 
thinking that another man's method might satisfy any 
doubts, I told him to go ahead, using the figures pub- 
lished in my story in the New York Herald. 

At the time I told him to purchase for me a "Bow- 
ditch Navigator," which I lacked, and any other alma- 
nacs and charts he needed for himself. He came out to 
the Gramatan to live. Arrangements for his stay had 
been made by Dunkle — under the name of Lewis, I have 
been told since — but I knew nothing of this at the time. 
I gave Loose $250, which was to compensate him in full 
for the articles and his running expenses. It struck me 
that he took an unnecessarily long time to finish his 
work of checking my calculations. 

Late one night, returning from the city, I went to 
his room. Dunkle was there. Papers were strewn all 
over the room. 

"Well," said Loose, "I think we have this thing all 
fixed up." 

Dunkle, smooth-tongued and friendly as ever, said, 
"Now, Doctor, I want to advise you to put your own 
observations aside. Send these to Copenhagen!" 

I looked up amazed, incredulous. I felt stunned 
for the moment, and said little. I then took the trouble 
to look over all the papers carefully. There was a full 
set of faked observations. The examination took me 
an hour. During that time Dunkle and Loose were 



THE DUNKLE-LOOSE FORGERY 539 

talking in a low tone. I did not hear what they said. 
I saw at once the game the rascals had been playing. 
The insinuation of their nefarious suggestion for the 
moment cleared my mind, and a dull anger filled me. 

"Gentlemen," I said, "pack up every scrap of this 
paper in that dress-suit case. Take all of your belong- 
ings and leave this hotel at once." 

I stood there while they did so. Not a word was 
spoken. Sheepish and silent, they shuffled from the 
room, ashamed and taken aback. Sick at heart at the 
thought that these men should have considered me 
unscrupulous enough to buy and use their faked figures, 
I went to my room. From that day — November 22 — I 
have not received a letter or telegram from either. 

Months later, in South America, I read with horri- 
fied amazement a summary of the account of this occur- 
rence, sold by Dunkle and Loose to the New York 
Times. Distorted and twisted as it was I doubt if even 
the Times would have used it had Dunkle and Loose not 
forced the lie that these faked figures were sent to 
Copenhagen. They knew, as God knows, that every 
scrap of paper on which they wrote was packed in a 
suit-case as dirty as the intent of their sin-blotted paper. 

If my report to the Copenhagen University proved 
anything, it was, by comparison, figure by figure, with 
the affidavits published, that in this at least I was guilty 
of no fraud. 

In a re-examination later, a handwriting expert has 
come to the conclusion that the name of Loose was 
forged, and Loose was later put in jail for another 
offense. To the city editor of a New York evening 
paper Loose offered to sell a story retracting the 



540 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

charges published in the Times. Dunkle admitted to 
witnesses that he had been paid for the affidavit pub- 
lished in the New York Times. Loose, willing to dis- 
credit the Times story, said, however, he "wanted big 
money" for a retraction. One question that is forced in 
the interest of fair-play is, Why did the New York 
Times, without investigation, print a news item by 
which a man's honor is attacked, which is not only a 
perjury but a forgery? The managing editor was 
shown the evidence of this forgery, admitted its force, 
but not a word was printed to counteract the harm done 
by printing false news. 

Captain E. B. Baldwin, a year later, discovered 
that this pro-Peary faked stuff was in possession of 
Professor James H. Gore, one of Mr. Peary's friends in 
the National Geographic Society, which prostituted its 
name for Peary by passing upon valueless "proofs." 
From the methods pursued by this society later, I am 
inclined to the belief that the Dunkle-Loose fake was 
concocted for members of this society. If not, how does 
it happen that Professor Gore is in possession of this 
faked, forged, and perjured stuff? 



HOW A GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY PROSTI- 
TUTED ITS NAME 

XXXVI 

The Washington Verdict — The Copenhagen 
Verdict 

While one group of pro-Peary men were early 
engaged in various conspiracies, extending from New 
York to the Pacific coast, fabricating false charges, 
faking, and forging news items designed to injure me, 
men higher up in Washington were planning other 
deceptions behind closed doors. The Mt. McKinley 
bribery and the Dunkle-Loose humbug had the desired 
effect in reducing the opposition in Washington, and by 
December of 1909 the controversy was settled to Mr. 
Peary's satisfaction by a group of men who, by decep- 
tion, betrayed public trust. 

The National Geographic Society very early 
assumed a meddlesome air in an effort to dictate the 
distribution of Polar honors. With the excuse that 
they would give a gold medal to him who could prove 
priority to the claim of Polar discovery, they began a 
series of movements that would put a dishonorable 
political campaign to shame. In the light of later 
developments, medals from this society are regarded by 
true scientific workers as badges of dishonor. By way 



542 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

of explanation, one of the officers said that they made 
it a rule to examine all original field observations before 
the society honored an explorer. This was a deliberate 
falsehood, for no explorer going to Washington had 
previously packed his field papers and instruments for 
inspection. If so, then this society again convicts itself 
of a humbug, as it did later. Mr. Peary had been given 
a gold medal for his claim of having reached the far- 
thest north in 1906. Peary admitted that his position 
rested on one imperfect observation. I happened, 
quite by accident, to be in a position, soon after Peary's 
return, to examine the instruments with which the 
farthest north observations had been made. Every 
apparatus was so bent and bruised that further observa- 
tions were impossible. Of course Peary will say that 
the instruments were injured en route on the return. 
But this does not excuse the idle boast of the members 
of the National Geographic Society, who said that they 
always examined a returning explorer's field notes and 
apparatus, when in this case they did not see Mr. 
Peary's observations nor his instruments. 

As a matter of fact, the National Geographic, like 
every other geographic society, had previously rated the 
merits of an explorer's work by his published reports. 
Their tactics were now changed to bring about a position 
where they might focus the controversy to Mr. Peary's 
and their advantage. There would have been no harm 
in this effort, if it had been honest; but, as we will see 
presently, falsehood and deception were evident in 
every move. 

The position of the National Geographic Society 
is very generally misunderstood because of its preten- 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 543 

tious use of the word "National." In reality, it is 
neither national nor geographic. It is a kind of self- 
admiration society, which serves the mission of a 
lecture bureau. It has no connection with the Govern- 
ment and has no geographic authority save that which it 
assumes. As a lecture bureau it had retained Mr. Peary 
to fill an important position as its principal star for 
many years. To keep him in the field as their head-line 
attraction they had paid $1,000 to Mr. Peary for the 
very venture now in question. This so-called "Na- 
tional" Geographic Society was, therefore, a stock owner 
in the venture upon which they passed as an unbiased 
jury. 

Of course Mr. Peary consented to rest his case in 
their hands; but, for reasons above indicated and for 
others given below, I refused to have any dealings with 
such an unfair combination. The Government was 
appealed to, and every political and private wire was 
pulled to compel me to submit my case to a packed 
jury. During all the time when this was done, its 
moving spirits, Gilbert Grosvenor and Admiral Chester, 
were publicly and privately saying things about me and 
my attainment of the Pole that no gentleman would 
utter. That Mr. Peary was a member of this society; 
that his friends were absolute dictators of the power of 
appointment; that they were stock owners in Mr. 
Peary's enterprise — all of this, and a good many other 
facts, were carefully suppressed. To the public this 
society declared they were "neutral, unbiased and scien- 
tific" — no more deliberate he than which was ever forced 
upon the public. 

Of course I refused to place my case in dishonest 



544 MY ATTAINMENT OE THE POLE 

pro-Peary hands. With shameless audacity this society 
helped Mr. Peary carry along his press campaign by 
disseminating the cowardly slurs of Grosvenor, Chester, 
and others. They watched and encouraged the 
McKinley bribery; they closed their eyes to the Kennan 
lies. Through Chester and others, they faked pages of 
sensational pseudo-scientific news, all with the one cen- 
tered aim of forcing doubt on opposing interests before 
the crucial moment, when, behind closed doors, the mat- 
ter could be settled to their liking. 

Thus, when Peary, his club, and his affiliated 
boosters at Washington were carrying their press slan- 
ders to a focus, there came a loud cry from the National 
Geographic Society for proofs. 

With some wrangling, and a good deal of protest 
from really honest men, like Professor Moore, a jury 
was appointed to pass upon Mr. Peary's claims and 
mine. My claims were to be passed upon against my 
will. Unbiased and real Arctic explorers like General 
Greely and Admiral Schley were carefully excluded 
from this jury. Instead, armchair geographers, who 
were closely related to the Peary interests, were ap- 
pointed as a "neutral jury," as follows: 

Henry Gannett, a close personal friend of Mr. 
Peary. 

C. M. Chester, related to Mr. Peary's fur trade, a 
member of a coterie that divided the profits of fleecing 
the Eskimos. 

O. H. Tittman, chief of a department under which 
part of Mr. Peary's work was done. 

With a flourish of trumpets, including pages of 
self-boosting news distributed by Mr. Peary's press 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 545 

agents, this commission began its important investiga- 
tion. At the time, it was said that all of Mr. Peary's 
original field papers and instruments were under careful 
scrutiny. Later it was shown that one of the jury saw 
only COPIES. On November 4>, 1909, was issued the 
verdict of this jury: "That Commander Peary reached 
the North Pole on April 6, 1909." 

This verdict, at its face value, was fair; but the 
circumstances which surrounded it before and after 
were such as to raise a doubt that can never be removed. 
With the verdict came the insinuation that no one else 
had reached the Pole before Peary; that my claim of 
priority was dishonest. A nagging press campaign 
continued to emanate from Washington. 

I have no objection to Mr. Peary's friends 
endorsing him — a friend who will stretch a point is not 
to be condemned. But when such friends stoop to dis- 
honorable methods to inflict injury upon others, then a 
protest is in order. My aim here is not to deny that 
Mr. Peary reached the Pole near enough for all prac- 
tical purposes, but to show how men sacrificed their 
word of honor to boost Mr. Peary and to discredit me. 

The verdict of this jury which was to settle the 
controversy for all time was sent out on wires that 
encircled the globe. Soon after there was a call for the 
data upon which that jury passed. The public called 
for it ; the Government called for it ; foreign geograph- 
ical societies asked for it. No one was allowed to see 
the wonderful "proofs." Why? 

Officially, that commission said that Mr. Peary's 
contract with a magazine prevented the publication of 
the "proofs." But every member of the commission 



546 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

was on the Government pay-roll. Why, may we ask, 
should a Government official be muzzled with a bid for 
commercial gain? This contract was held by Benjamin 
Hampton, of Hampton's Magazine. If Hampton's 
contract muzzled the Government officials, Mr. Hamp- 
ton thought so little of the so-called "proofs" that he 
did not print them. For, in Hampton's installment, 
with the eye-attracting title, "Peary Proofs Positive," 
the real data upon which the Peary case rests were 
eliminated. Why? In Mr. Peary's own book that 
material is again suppressed. Why? For the same 
reason that the jury was muzzled. The material would 
not bear public scrutiny! 

The real difficulty is that, in the haste to floor rival 
claims, Mr. Peary and all his biased helpers fixed as the 
crucial test of Polar attainment an examination of field 
observations. Mr. Peary had his ; he had refused to let 
Whitney bring part of mine from the North; and, 
therefore, he and his friends supposed that I was help- 
less, by assuming this false position. But when Mr. 
Peary's own material was examined, it was found that 
his position rested on a set of worthless observations — 
calculations of altitudes of the sun so low that it is 
questionable if the observation could have been made at 
all. So long as three men, behind closed doors, could 
be made to say "Yes, Peary reached the Pole," and so 
long as this verdict came with the authority of a Geo- 
graphic Society and the seeming endorsement of 
national prestige, the false position could be impressed 
upon the pubic as a bona-fide verdict. But, with pub- 
licity, the whole railroading game would be spoiled. 
These three men could be influenced. But there are a 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 547 

hundred thousand other men in the world whose lives 
depend upon their knowledge of just such observations 
as were here involved. They knew publicity would 
bring the attention of these men to the fact that Mr. 
Peary's polar claim rests upon the impossible observa- 
tions of a sun at an altitude less than 7° above the 
horizon. The three armchair geographers, seldom out 
of reach of dusty book-shelves, passed upon these 
worthless observations. Not one of one hundred 
thousand honest sextant experts would credit such an 
observation as that upon which Mr. Peary's case rests — 
not even in home regions, where for centuries tables for 
corrections have been gathered. 

*A year later, at the Congressional investigation of 
the Naval Committee in Washington, Mr. Peary and 
two of his jurors admitted that in the much-heralded 
Peary proofs "there was no proof." Members of the 
Geographic Society acknowledged their "examination" 
of Peary's instruments was made in the Pennsylvania 



*When Mr. Peary first returned from the North, and began his 
attacks upon me, he caused a demand for "proofs" through the New York 
Times and its affiliated papers; he had them call for my instruments; he 
insinuated that I had had no instruments with me in the North (despite 
the fact that Captain Bartlett had informed him that my own Eskimos 
had testified that I had) ; he declared that any Polar claim must be estab- 
lished by an examination of observations and an examination of the 
explorer's instruments. 

In view of the unwarranted newspaper call for "proofs," I was em- 
barrassed by having left my instruments with Whitney. Mr. Peary had 
his, however. But were they carefully examined by the august body who 
so eagerly decided he reached the Pole? Was the verdict of the self- 
appointed arbiters of the so-called National Geographic Society based 
upon such examination as Mr. Peary — concerning my case — had declared 
necessary? 

Testifying before the subcommittee of the Committee on Naval Affairs, 
when the move was on to have Peary made a Rear-Admiral, Henry Gan- 
nett, one of the three members of the National Geographic Society, who 
had passed on Peary's claim, admitted that their examination of Mr. Peary's 
instruments was casually and hastily made in the Pennsylvania Station at 



548 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

Station, when they opened Mr. Peary's trunk and 
casually looked over its contents. Therefore, Mr. 
Peary's claim for a second victory now rests upon his 
book. 

In forcing the controversy, the press and the public 
have come to the conclusion that one or the other report 
must be discredited. This is an incorrect point of view. 
Each case must be judged upon its own merits. To 
prove my case, it is not necessary to disprove Peary's; 
nor, to prove Peary's, should it have been necessary to 
try to disprove mine. 

Much has been said about my case resting in for- 
eign hands. This came about in a natural way. It was 



Washington. When Peary later appeared in person before the committee, 
he admitted having come to Washington from Portland, Maine, to consult 
with the members of the National Geographic Society who were to examine 
his proofs, and that he had brought his instruments with him in a trunk, 
which was left at the station. The following took place (See official Con- 
gressional Report, Private Calendar No. 733, Sixty-first Congress, Third 
Session, House of Representatives, Report No. 1961, pages 21 and 22) : 

"Mr. Roberts — How did the instruments come down? 

"Captain Peary — They came in a trunk. 

"Mr. Roberts — Your trunk? 

"Captain Peary — Yes. 

"Mr. Roberts — After you reached the station and found the trunk, 
what did you and the committee do regarding the instruments? 

"Captain Peary — I should say that we opened the trunk there in the 
station. 

"Mr. Roberts — That is, in the baggage-room of the station? 

"Captain Peary — Yes. 

"Mr. Roberts — Were the instruments all taken out? 

"Captain Peary — That I could not say. Members of the committee 
will probably remember better than I. 

"Mr. Roberts — Well, do you not have any recollection of whether 
they took them out and examined them? 

"Captain Peary — Some were taken out, I should say; whether all were 
taken out I could not say. 

"Mr. Roberts — Was any test of those instruments made by any mem- 
ber of the committee to ascertain whether or not the instruments were 
inaccurate ? 

"Captain Peary — That I could not say. I should imagine that it would 
not be possible to make tests there. 

"Mr. Roberts — Were those instruments ever in the possession of the 
committee other than the inspection at the station? 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 549 

not intended to convey the idea that my own country- 
men were incompetent or dishonest. In the case of the 
National Geographic Society they have irretrievahly 
prostituted their name; but the same is not true of other 
American authorities. 

When I came to Copenhagen, the Danish Geo- 
graphic Society gave me a first spontaneous hearing. 
The Copenhagen University honored me. It was, 
therefore, but proper that the Danes should be the first 
to pass upon the merits of my claim. While these 
arrangements were in progress, I met Professor Thorp, 
the Rector of the University of Copenhagen, at the 
American Legation. I did not know the purport of 
that meeting, nor of his detailed, careful questions; but 
on the 6th of September appeared an official statement 
in the press reports. In these it was stated that the 



"Captain Peary— NOT TO MY KNOWLEDGE." 

Note. — This, then, was the basis of the glorious verdict of the packed 
jury which assailed me; which demanded as necessary instruments of me 
which had been left in the North, and which posed as a fair body of 
experts ! 

All important questions asked of Peary, Tittman and Gannett were 
hedged, their aim being to avoid publicity. In substance, they admitted 
that in the "Peary Proofs," passed upon a year before, there was no 
proof. They admitted that their favorable verdict was reached upon an 
examination of COPIES of Mr. Peary's observations, and that the examina- 
tion and decision occurred at a sort of social gathering in the house of 
Admiral Chester, who had attacked me. Chairman Roberts, commenting 
on the testimony, wrote (see page 15) : 

"From these extracts from the testimony it will be seen that Mr. 
Gannett, after his careful examination of Captain Peary's proofs and 
records, did not know how many days it took Captain Peary from the 
time he left Bartlett to reach the Pole and return to the Roosevelt, that 
information being supplied by a Mr. Grosvenor. It will be also observed 
that Mr. Gannett, as a result of his careful examination of Captain 
Peary's proofs and records, gives Captain Peary, in his final dash to the 
Pole, the following equipment: Two sledges, 36 or 32 dogs, 2 Eskimos, 
and Henson. It will be seen later from Captain Peary's testimony, that 
he had on that final dash 40 dogs, 5 sledges, and a total of six men in 
his party. This discrepancy on so vital a point must seem quite con- 
clusive that the examination of the Geographic Society's committee was. 
anything but careful," 



550 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

meeting had been arranged to satisfy the University- 
authorities as to whether the Pole had been reached. 
Among other things, Professor Thorp said: 

"As there were certain questions of a special astro- 
nomical nature with which I myself was not sufficiently 
acquainted, I called in our greatest astronomical scien- 
tist, Professor Stromgren, who put an exhaustive series 
of mathematical, technical and natural scientific ques- 
tions to Dr. Cook, based particularly on those of his 
contentions on which some doubts had been cast. 

"Dr. Cook answered all to our full satisfaction. 
He showed no nervousness or excitement at any time. 
I dare say, therefore, that there is no justification for 
anybody to throw the slightest doubt on his claim to 
have reached the Pole and the means by which he did it. 
Professor Stromgren and I are entirely satisfied with 
the evidence." 

I have always maintained that the proof of an 
explorer's doings was not to be found in a few dis- 
connected figures, but in the continuity of his final 
book which presents his case. To this end I prepared 
a report, accompanied by the important part of the 
original field notes and a complete set of reduced 
observations. These were submitted to the University 
of Copenhagen in December of 1909. The verdict on 
this was that in such material there was no absolute 
proof of the attainment of the Pole. 

The Peary press agents were in Copenhagen, and 
sent this news out so as to convey the idea that Copen- 
hagen had denounced me; that, in their opinion, the 
Pole had not been reached as claimed, and that I had 
hoaxed the world for sordid gain; all of which was 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 551 

untrue. But the press flaunted my name m big head- 
lines as a faker. 

"In the Cook data there is no proof," they repeated 
as the verdict of Copenhagen. 

A year later Mr. Peary and his jurors confessed 
unwillingly in Congress that in the Peary data there 
was no proof. 

This was reported in the official Congressional 
pamphlets, but, so far as I know, not a single newspaper 
displayed the news. The two cases, therefore, so far as 
verdicts go, are parallel. 

Wearied of the whole problem of undesirable pub- 
licity; mentally and physically exhausted; disgusted 
with the detestable and slanderous campaign, which, for 
Mr. Peary, the press forced unremittingly, I decided to 
go away for a year, to rest and recuperate. This could 
not be done if I took the press into my confidence ; and, 
therefore, I quietly departed from New York, to be 
joined by my family later. Out of the public eye, life, 
for me, assumed a new interest. In the meantime, the 
public agitation was stilled. Time gave a better per- 
spective to the case; Mr. Peary got that for which his 
hand had reached. He was made a Rear- Admiral, with 
a pension of $6,000 under retirement. 

By the time I had resolved my case, I received 
through my brother, William L. Cook, of Brooklyn, 
and my London solicitor, various offers from news- 
papers and magazines for any statement I desired to 
make. Because I had gone away quietly and remained 
in seclusion, the newspapers had inflamed the public 
with an abnormal curiosity in my so-called mysterious 
disappearance. This fact imparted a great sensational 



6b£ MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

value to any news of my public reappearance or to any 
statement which I might make. Eager to secure a 
"beat," newspapers were offering my brother as high as 
one thousand dollars merely for my address. The 
New York newspaper which had led the attack against 
me sent an offer, through my London solicitor, of any 
figure which I might make for my first exclusive state- 
ment to the public. One magazine offered me ten 
thousand dollars for a series of articles. 

While in London I received a message from Mr. 
T. Everett Harry, of Hampton's Magazine, concern- 
ing the publication of a series of articles explaining my 
case. Mr. Harry came to London and talked over 
plans for these. The opportunity of addressing the 
same public, through the same medium, as Mr. Peary 
had in his serial story, strongly influenced me — in fact, 
so strongly that, while I had a standing offer of ten 
thousand dollars, I finally gave my articles to Hamp- 
ton's for little more than four thousand dollars. 

In order that Hampton's Magazine might benefit 
by the publicity attaching to my first statement, and in 
response to the editor's request, I came quietly to the 
United States with Mr. Harry, by way of Canada, to 
consult with the editor before making final arrange- 
ments. Mr. Harry and I had agreed upon the outline 
for the articles. They were to be a series of heart-to- 
heart talks, embodying the psychological phases of the 
Polar controversy and my own actions. In these I 
determined fully to state my case, explain the ungra- 
cious controversy, and analyze the impossibility of 
mathematically ascertaining the Pole or of proving such 
a claim by figures. The articles that eventually 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 553 

appeared in Hampton's, with the exception of unauthor- 
ized editorial changes and excisions of vitally important 
matter concerning Mr. Peary, were practically the same 
as planned in London. 

Coming down from Quebec, I stopped in Troy, 
New York, to await Mr. Hampton, who was to come 
from New York. While there, a sub-editor, with all 
a newspaper man's sensational instincts, came to see me. 
He communicated, it seems, a brilliant scheme for a 
series of articles. As he outlined it, I was to go secretly 
to New York, submit myself to several employed alien- 
ists who should pronounce me insane, whereupon I was 
to write several articles in which I should admit having 
arrived at the conclusion that I reached the Pole while 
mentally unbalanced! This admission was to be sup- 
ported by the alienists' purchased report ! This plan, I 
was told, would "put me right" and make a great 
sensational story ! 

When I was told of this I felt staggered. Did 
people — could they — deem me such a hoax that, in 
order to obtain an unwarranted sympathy, or to make 
money, I should be willing to admit to such a shameful, 
mad, atrocious and despicable lie? I said nothing when 
the suggestion was made. At heart, I felt achingly 
hurt. I felt that this newspaper man, not hesitating 
at deceiving the public in order to get a sensation, 
regarded me as a scoundrel. I was learning, too, as I 
had throughout the heart-bitter controversy, the 
duplicity of human nature. 

After a talk with Mr. Hampton, who finally 
arrived, and who, I am glad to say, had no such sugges- 
tion himself to offer, I got to work on my articles after 



554 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

the general plan spoken of in London. These 
were written at the Palatine Hotel, in New- 
burgh. The articles finished, I returned to London to 
settle certain business matter prior to my public return 
to America by Christmas. 

Imagine my amazed indignation when, shortly 
before sailing, the cables brought the untrue news, "Dr. 
Cook Confesses." Imagine my heart-aching dismay 
when, on reaching the shores of my native country, I 
found the magazine which was running the articles in 
which I hoped to explain myself, had blazoned the 
sensation-provoking lie over its cover — "Dr. Cook's 
Confession." 

I had made no confession. I had made the admis- 
sion that I was uncertain as to having reached the exact 
mathematical Pole. That same admission Mr. Peary 
would have to make had he been pinned down. He did 
make this admission, in fact, while his own articles, a 
year before, were being prepared, in the Hampton's 
office. 

In order to advertise itself, the magazine employed 
the trick of construing a mere admission of uncertainty 
as to the exact pin-point attainment of the Pole as a 
"confession." To the public I had apparently author- 
ized this. The misrepresentation hurt me, and for a 
time placed me in an unhappy dilemma. 

Before the appearance of the January Hampton's, 
in which the first instalment of my articles appeared, 
a series of press stories supposedly based upon my forth- 
coming articles were prepared and sent out by the sub- 
editor who had suggested the insanity plan. These were 
prepared during the absence of Mr. Harrv in Atlantic 



PROSTITUTED ITS NAME 555 

City. By picking garbled extracts from my articles 
about the impossibility of a pin-point determination of 
the Pole, and the crazy mirage^effects of the Arctic 
world, these news-stories were construed to the effect 
that I admitted I did not know whether I had been at 
the North Pole or whether I had not been at the North 
Pole, and also that I admitted to a plea of insanity. 
These stories were printed on the first pages of hun- 
dreds of newspaper all over the country, under scare- 
heads of "Dr. Cook Admits Fakel" and "Dr. Cook 
Makes Plea of Insanity !" 

In these reports, written by the sub-editor, he gave 
himself credit for the "discovery" of Dr. Cook and the 
securing of his articles for Hampton's. This claim for 
the magazine "beat" was as dishonest as his handling of 
the press matter for Hamptons. My dealings with the 
magazine were entirely through Mr. Harry, whose 
frankness and fair-dealing early disposed me to give 
my story to the publication he represented. 

The widespread dissemination of the untrue and 
cruelly unfair "confession" and "insanity-plea" stories 
dazed me. I felt impotent, crushed. In my very 
effort to explain myself I was being irretrievably hurt. 
I was being made a catspaw for magazine and news- 
paper sensation. 

But misrepresentations do not make history. The 
American people cannot always be hoodwinked. The 
reading public soon realized that my story was no more 
a confession than the "Peary Proof Positive" instal- 
ment in Hampton's had been the embodiment of any 
real Polar proofs. 

Finding that it was impossible, in magazines and 



556 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

newspapers, to tell the full truth; finding that what I 
did say was garbled and distorted, I concluded to 
reserve the detailed facts for this book. There were 
truths about Mr. Peary which, I suppose, no paper 
would have dared to print. I have told them here. 
There were truths about myself which, because they 
explain me, the papers, preferring to attack me, would 
not have printed. I have told them here. 

I climbed Mt. McKinley, by my own efforts, with- 
out assistance; I reached the Pole, save for my Eskimos, 
alone. I had spent no one's money, lost no lives. I 
claimed my victory honestly; and as a man believing In 
himself and his personal rights, at a time when I was 
nervously unstrung and viciously attacked, I went 
away to rest, rather than deal in dirty defamation, 
alone. At a time when the tables seemed turned, when 
the wolves of the press were desirous of rending me, I 
came back to my country— alone. 

I have now made my fight; I have been compelled 
to extreme measures of truth-telling that are abhorrent 
to me. I have done this because, otherwise, people 
would not understand the facts of the Polar contro- 
versy or why I, reluctant, remained silent so long. I 
have done this single-handedly. I have confidence in 
my people; more than that, I have implicit and 
indomitable confidence in — Truth. 



RETROSPECT 

Returning from the North, in September, 1909, 
while being honored in Copenhagen for my success in 
reaching the North Pole, there came, by wireless from 
Labrador, messages from Robert E. Peary, claiming 
the attainment exclusively as his own, and declaring 
that in my assertion I was, in his vernacular, offering 
the world a "gold brick." 

On April 21, 1908, I had reached a spot which I 
ascertained, with as scientific accuracy as possible, to be 
the top of the axis around which the world spins — the 
North Pole. 

On April 6, 1909, a year later, Mr. Peary claimed 
to have reached the same spot. 

To substantiate his charge of fraud, Peary declared 
that my Eskimo companions had said I had been only 
two sleeps from land. Why, he further asked, had I 
not taken reputable witnesses with me on such a trip ? 

I had taken, on my final dash, two expert Eskimos. 
Mr. Peary had four Eskimos and a negro body servant. 

Before launching further charges, Mr. Peary de- 
layed his ship, the Roosevelt, at Battle Harbor, on the 
pretext of cleaning it, that he might digest my New 
York Herald story, compare it with his own, and fabri- 
cate his broadside of abuse. There he was in constant 
communication with the New York Times, General 
Thomas Hubbard — president of the Peary Arctic Club 
and financial sponsor of the "trust" — and Herbert L. 
Bridgman. The Times, eager to "beat" the Herald, 



558 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

was desirous of discrediting me and launching Peary's 
as the bona-fi.de North Pole discovery story. General 
Hubbard, Mr. Bridgman, and the "trust" were eager 
for a publicity and acclaim greater than that which 
might attach to any honorable second victor. Dishonor 
and perjury, to secure first honors, were not even to be 
weighed in the balance. 

When I arrived in New York, I was confronted 
by a series of technical questions, designed to baffle me. 
These questions, I learned, had been sent to the Times 
by Mr. Peary with instructions that the Times "get 
after" me. 

I answered these questions. I had answered them 
in Europe. Mr. Peary, when he arrived at Sydney, 
and afterward, refused to answer any questions. He 
continued simply to attack me, to make insinuations 
aspersing my honesty, playing the secret back-hand 
game of defamation conducted by his friends of his 
Arctic Club. 

Why had I not, on my return from my Polar trip, 
told anyone of the achievement, Mr. Peary asked in an 
interview, aiming to show that my Polar attainment 
was an afterthought. 

On my return to Etah I had told Harry Whitney 
and Pritchard. They, in turn, told Captain Bob 
Bartlett. Captain Bartlett, as well as the Eskimos, 
in turn told Peary at Etah that I claimed to have 
reached the Pole. At the very moment when this 
charge was made, Peary had in his pocket Captain 
Adams' letter which gave the same information. Why 
did Mr. Peary suppress this information, convicting 
himself of insinuating an untruth from three different 



RETROSPECT 559 

sources to challenge my claim. Returning from the 
North with the negro, Henson, and Eskimos, Mr. 
Peary himself had not told his own companions on the 
Roosevelt of his own success. Why was this? 

In a portentous statement Mr. Peary and his party 
declared my Eskimos said I had not been more than 
two sleeps from land. 

I had instructed my companions not to tell Peary 
of my achievement. He had stolen my supplies. I felt 
him unworthy of the confidence of a brother explorer. 
I had encouraged the delusion of E-tuk-i-shook and 
Ah-we-lah that almost daily mirages and low-lying 
clouds were signs of land, so as to prevent the native 
panic and desertion on the circumpolar sea. They 
had possibly told this to Peary in all honesty; but other 
natives also told him that we had reached the "Big 
Nail." 

Why was the news to Mr. Peary's liking given, 
while that which he did not like was ignored? 

Not long ago, Matthew Henson, interviewed in the 
south, was quoted as saying that Peary did not get to 
the Pole. In another interview he said that Peary, 
like a tenderfoot, rode in a fur-cushioned sledge 
until they got to a place which was "far enough." I 
still prefer to believe Peary rather than Henson. 
Peary's Eskimo companions of a former trip positively 
deny Peary's claimed discovery of Crocker Land. I 
still prefer to believe that Crocker Land does deserve a 
place on the map. Peary's last Eskimo companions 
say that he did not reach the Pole. But I prefer to 
credit his claim. Mr. Peary's spirit has never been that 
of fairness to others When a claim impignes upon his 



560 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

own. He has always adopted the tactics of the claim- 
jumper. 

In a like manner, and with similar intent, Mr. 
Peary had attacked many explorers before me. To 
prevent his companions from profiting by their own 
work, members of each expedition were forced to sign 
contracts that barred press interviews, eliminated cam- 
eras, prohibited lecturing or writing, or even trading for 
trophies. To insure Mr. Peary all the honor, his men 
were made slaves to his cause. 

In a quarrel which resulted from these impossible 
conditions, Eivind Astrup was assailed. Broken- 
hearted, he committed suicide. Captain Otto Sverdrup 
was made to feel the sting of the same grasping spirit. 
General A. W. Greely has been unjustly attacked. 
All of this detestable selfishness culminated in the treat- 
ment of Captain Bob Bartlett. When the Pole, to 
Peary, seemed within reach, and the glory of victory 
was within grasp, the ever-faithful Bartlett was turned 
back and his place was taken by a negro, that Peary 
might be, to quote his own words, "the only white man 
at the Pole." 

When, on my return to New York, I found myself 
attacked by a man of this caliber, I decided that the 
public, without any counter-defamation on my part, 
would read him aright and see through the unscrupulous 
and dishonest campaign. So I remained silent. 

Coming down to Portland from Sydney, where he 
had landed, Mr. Peary gave out an interview insinuating 
that I had had no instruments with which to take 
observations. "Would Dr. Cook," he asked, "if he had 
had instruments, have left them in the hands of a stran- 



RETROSPECT 561 

ger (Harry Whitney), when upon these depended his 
fame or his dishonor?" 

On his return to this country, Mr. Whitney cor- 
roborated my statement of leaving my instruments with 
him. Mr. Peary's own captain, who had cross-ques- 
tioned my Eskimos for Mr. Peary, later stated to two 
magazine editors that my companions had described to 
him the instruments I had had. Is it reasonable to 
suppose that Mr. Peary did not know of this ? I know 
that he knew. If he is an honest man, why did he stoop 
to this dishonesty? Even if he believed me to be dis- 
honest, dishonest methods only placed him in the class 
of the one he attacked as dishonest. 

By using the same underhand methods, as when he 
got the New York Times to cross-question me for him- 
self, Peary now got his friends of the Geographic 
Society, who had boosted him, to call for "proofs." 
Such proofs, it appeared, should always be presented 
before public honors were accepted or the returns of a 
lecture tour considered. But Peary had engaged in 
exploration for twenty years, and had always given 
lectures at once, without ever offering proofs. I was 
asked to cancel lecture engagements and furnish what 
Peary knew neither he nor anybody else could furnish 
offhand. For the proof of an explorer's doings is his 
final book, which requires months and years to prepare. 

With much blaring of trumpets, the Peary 
"proofs" were submitted to his friends of the National 
Geographic Society. With but a casual examination 
of copies of data, claimed at the time to be original field 
notes, with no explanation of the wonderful instruments 
upon which it had been earlier claimed Polar honors 



562 MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 

rested, an immediate and favorable verdict was ren- 
dered. 

A huge picture was published, showing learned, 
bewhiskered gentlemen examining the Peary "proofs," 
and reaching their verdict. Mr. Peary's case for a 
rediscovery of the Pole was won — for the time. The 
public were deceived into believing that positive proofs 
had been presented ; that the society, acting as a compe- 
tent and neutral jury, was honest. Later it was shown 
that its members were financially interested in Mr. 
Peary's expedition, and still later it was admitted that 
the Peary proofs contained no proof. All of this later 
development has had no publicity. 

In the meantime, I was attacked for delay. My 
data was finally sent to the University of Copenhagen. 
A verdict of "Unproven" was rendered. 

Thereupon, Mr. Peary and his friends at once 
shouted "Fraud!" The press parrot-like re-echoed that 
shout. With this unfair insinuation there came to me 
the biting sting of a burning electric shock as the wires 
quivered all around the world. At the Congressional 
investigation, a year later, the Peary data was shown to 
be useless as proof. It was a verdict precisely like that 
of Copenhagen on mine, but the press did not print it. 
Did the Peary interests have any control over the 
American press or its sources of news distribution? 

After the call for "proof" came charges, from 
members of the Peary cabal, that I was unable to take 
observations. Mr. Peary was so much better equipped 
than I to do so ! Moreover, he had had the able scien- 
tific assistance of Bartlett and — the negro. 

When I was at the Pole the sun was 12° above the 



RETROSPECT 563 

horizon. At the time Peary claims he was there it was 
less than 7°. Difficult as it is to take observations at 12°, 
because of refracted fight, any accurate observation at 
7* is impossible. It is indeed, questionable if an obser- 
vation could be made at all at the time when Peary 
claims to have been at the Pole. 

Finding that, despite all charges, the public be- 
lived in me, Mr. Peary, through his cooperators, 
attempted to discredit my veracity. An affidavit, which 
was bought, as I have evidence to prove, was made by 
Barrill to the effect that I had not climbed Mt. 
McKinley. The getting of this affidavit is placed at 
the door of Mr. Peary. 

Do honest men, with honest intentions, buy per- 
jured documents? 

Do honest men, believing in themselves, besmirch 
their own honor by deliberate lying? 

Dunkle and Loose came to me, offered to look over 
the observations in my Herald story, and — suddenly — 
to my amazement — offered a set of faked observations, 
manufactured at the instigation of someone. I re- 
fused the batch of faked papers, and turned the two 
nefarious conspirators out of my hotel. 

A comparison of my Copenhagen report with the 
Dunkle perjured story, later printed in the New York 
Times, proves I used not one of their figures. 
Mr. R. J. McLouglin later proved that the hand 
which signed "Dunkle" also signed "Loose" to that 
lying document. It is, therefore, not only a perjury, 
but a forgery. 

Recently, Professor J. H. Gore, a member of the 
National Geographic Society, and one of Peary's 



564 MY ATTAINMENT OP THE POLE 

friends, acknowledged to Evelyn B. Baldwin that he 
had in his possession the faked observations which were 
made by Dunkle and Loose. 

How did he come by them? Why does he have 
them? What were the relations between Dunkle and 
Loose, Peary's friends, the New York Times, and the 
National Geographic Society? Do honest men, with 
honest intentions, conspire with men of this sort, men 
who offered to sell me faked figures — most likely to 
betray me had I been dishonest enough to buy them — 
and who, failing, perjured themselves? 

Disgusted, I decided to let my enemies exhaust 
their abuse. I knew it eventually would rebound. De- 
termined to retire to rest, to resolve my case in quietude 
and secrecy, I left America. My enemies gleefully pro- 
claimed this an admission of imposture. 

Yet, after they had turned almost every news- 
paper in the country against me, having rested, having 
resolved my case, having secured damaging proofs of 
the facts of the conspiracy against me, I returned to 
America. 

Realizing my error in so long remaining silent; 
realizing the power of a sensation-seeking press, which 
has no respect for individuals or of truth, I determined, 
painful as would be the task, to tell the unpleasant, 
distasteful truth about the man who tried to besmirch 
my name. This may seem unkind. But I was kind too 
long. Truth is often unpleasant, but it is less mali- 
cious than the sort of lies hurled at me. 

After I had left America, the newspapers, desir- 
ous of sensation, had played into the hands of those 
who, with seeming triumph, assailed me. But mean- 



RETROSPECT 565 

while, however, I was taking advantage of the oppor- 
tunity to rest and gain an accurate perspective of the 
situation. I thought out my case, considered it pro 
and con, puzzled out the reasons for, and the source of, 
the newspaper clamor against me. Through friends in 
America who worked quietly and effectively, I secured 
evidence, which is embodied in affidavits, which laid 
bare the methods employed to discredit me in the Mt. 
McKinley affair. I learned of the methods used, and 
just what charges were made, to discredit my Polar 
claim. Damaging admissions were secured concerning 
Mr. Peary's fabricated attacks from the mouths of Mr. 
Peary's own associates. Knowing these facts, at the 
proper time, I returned to my native country to con- 
front my enemies. I have proceeded in detail to state 
my case and reveal the hitherto unknown inside facts 
of the entire Polar controversy. I have stated certain 
facts before the public. Neither Mr. Peary nor his 
friends have replied. One point in the Polar contro- 
versy has never reached the public. Both Mr. Peary 
and many of his friends asserted that I left the country 
just in time to escape criminal prosecution. They said 
the charge was to be that I had obtained money on a 
false pretence by accepting fees for lecturing on my dis- 
covery. I returned to America. I have been lecturing 
for fees on my discovery since; I have not yet been 
prosecuted. 

Were Mr. Peary not the sort of man who would 
stoop to dishonor, to discredit a rival in order to gain 
an unfair advantage for himself, were he not guilty 
of the gross injustice I have stated, he would have had 
all the opportunity in the world for effectively 



566 



MY ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



coming back at me. But he has remained silent. Why? 

I have, as I have said, absolute confidence in the 
good sense, spirit of fair-play, and ability of reasoning 
judgment of my people. My case rests, not with any 
body of armchair explorers or kitchen geographers, but 
with Arctic travelers who can see beyond the mist of 
selfish interests, and with my fellow-countrymen, who 
breathe normal air and view without bias the large open 
fields of honest human endeavor. 

In this book I have stated my case, presented my 
proofs. As to the relative merits of my claim, and Mr. 
Peary's, place the two records side by side. Compare 
them. I shall be satisfied with your decision. 

Frederick A. Coo" 




APPENDIX 



COPY OF THE FIELD NOTES 



The following copy of the daily entries in one of my 
original note-books takes the expedition step by step from 
Svartevoeg to the Pole and back to land. 

As will be seen by those here reproduced, the original 
notes are mostly abbreviations and suggestions, hasty tabula- 
tions and reminders, memoranda to be later elaborated. The 
hard environment, the scarcity of materials, and cold fingers 
did not encourage extensive field notes. Most of these field 
notes were rewritten while in Jones Sound, and some were also 
copied and elaborated in Greenland. 

In planning this expedition, every article of equipment 
and every phase of effort was made subordinate to the one 
great need of covering long distances. We deliberately set 
out for the Pole, with a desperate resolution to succeed, and 
although appreciating the value of detail scientific work, I 
realized that such work could not be undertaken in a pioneer 
project like ours. We therefore did not burden ourselves 
with cumbersome instruments, nor did we allow ourselves to be 
side-tracked in attractive scientific pursuits. Elaborate 
results are not claimed, but the usual data of Arctic expedi- 
tions were gathered with fair success. 

(Notes usually written at end of day's march.) 



So 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



March 
1908. 



Svartevoeg. Made cache here for return. Supporting 
party goes back. Noon start; 4 men, 46 dogs, 4 sleds; 
26 miles. Ice heavy, wavy; little snow; crystals hard; 
land screened by drift. Camp on old field. Night un- 
comfortable; air humid, penetrating. Snowhouse of 
hard snow imperfectly made. (Other notes of this 
date so dim that they cannot be read. Compose direc- 
tions, unless otherwise noted, are true.) 



570 



APPENDIX 





■O 




3 > 


19 


21 


20 


16 


21 


29 


32 


22 


23 


17 


24 


18 


25 


18 


26 


IT 


2T 


16 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



March 
1908. 



Clearer, overland thick; — 56° F. ; Wind 2 W. ; sun 
feeble; blue haze. On march, ice smaller; use of axe; 
crossings troublesome. Camp lee of big hummock. 
Cannot send supply back; must follow for another day. 

Land more clearly visible; sky overcast; wind W. S. W. 
1; ice worse. Small igloo. The last feed men return. 

Awoke, sun N. E.; orange glow; — 63° F.; bar. 30.10, 
steady; no clouds; sky pale purple. More snow (on 
ice); groaning sledges; mirages, lands, mountains, vol- 
canoes. Air light; wind sky N.; Grant Land a mere 
line; — 46°. Torture of light snow; march 14 hours. 

A. M.; wind E. 3; — 59°. Start 12 (noon); sky clearer; 
wind 2; water sky N. Grant Land visible P. M. 
(Later) Temp, rose to — 46°. Wind tolerably high; 
pressure lines; the big lead. Camp on old field on 
bank; ice noises; search for the crossing. Young, 
elastic ice. 

Cross the big lead. Young ice elastic and dangerous; 
western sky again threatening; ice movement east; 
fields small; narrow open lanes. Course for 85th on 
97th; — 40°; march 11 hours; 23 miles, credit 17 miles. 
Ice noises; night beautiful; sun sank into pearly haze. 
(Later) Orange glow; pack violet and pale purple 
blue; sky late — partly cl. appearance of land W. 

Observations 83.31—96.27; —11°; bar. 29.70. West 
bank of fog and haze. Start afternoon; no life; old 
seal hole and bear tracks; long march; ice improving. 
10 h.; pedometer 21 m.; camp in coming storm; rush- 
ing clouds; signs of land W. 18 m. (credited on 
course). 

Early awakened by dogs. Storm spent soon; sunrise 
temp. — 26°, later —41°; west again smoky. Back to 
the bags; cracking ice; the breaking and separating 
ice and the crevasse episode; in a bag and in water; 
ice-water and pemmican; masks of ice. Good march 
over newly-fractured ice; ice in motion. 

Still windy; some drift snow; another storm threaten- 
ing. How we need rest! Strong wind during the 
night Position D. R. 84.24—96.53. 

In camp until noon. Strong winds all night; eased at 
noon; clearing some; sun; weather unsettled. Short 
run; squally en route; made early camp. Bar. 29.05. 



APPENDIX 



571 







■a 







s >■ 

2 6 


March 
1908. 


28 







39 


9 




30 


10 




31 


10 


April 
1908. 


1 


18 




2 


12 




3 


10 




4 


14 




5 


14 




6 


14 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



Weather still unsettled. Temp. — 41°; Bar. 29.15; west 
ugly. No progress. The drift. In camp. Anxious 
about stability of igloo. The collapsed camp. Mid- 
night; north cloudy, but ice bright; many hummocks. 

Start early P. M. A little blue in the west; sun bursts; 
pack disturbed; hard traveling, due to fresh crevasses. 
Camp midnight; only 9 miles. 

Land, 9 A. M., cleared; land was seen; westerly clouds 
settled over it. Observations 84.50, 95.36; bearing of 
land, southern group, West by South to West by North 
true. Other bearings taken later place a coast line 
along the 102 meridian from lat. 84° 20' to 85° 10'. There 
must be much open water about the land, for banks of 
vapor persistently hide part. A low fog persistent; 
cannot see shore; for days we have expected to see 
something W., but never a clear horizon. Probably two 
island S. like Heiberg, 1,800 ft. high, valleys, moun- 
tains, snow N., table 1,000, thin ice sheet, bright nights. 
From observation paper: Bar. 30.10, had risen from 
29.50 in 2 hours; wind 2-3 mag. S. ; clouds mist, East, 
water-bands W.; shadow (of 6 ft. pole) 39 ft. 

Land screened by mist; wind W. 2-0. Ice fracture; no 
sign of life — none since 83. 

(Time of traveling) 9 to 6; ice better; fields larger; 
crevasses less troublesome; temp. — 32°. There is no 
more darkness at night. 

(Start) 9.30; (stop) 8. Smooth ice; hard snow; ice 28 
ft. and 32. Night bright but cloudy. Temp. — 35°; 
bar. 30.10; leads difficult. 

8.30 to 6.30. Temp. —39°; bar. 30.12; sky clearing at 
noon, but low clouds and frosty haze persist in the W. 
and N. Night bright; sun at midnight under cloud and 
haze. 

8.45 to 6.10. Snow softer; used snowshoes; have 
crossed 11 crevasses; much chopping; brash and small 
hummocks. 

9 (A.M.) to 5.45 (P.M.). Snow better. Ice larger. 
Oh, so tired! Snowshoes. 

8.10 (A.M.) to 6.15 (P.M.). Snow hard. Ice flat. 
Few hummocks. Less wavy. Snow (shoes). Sun 
faces, 



572 



APPENDIX 





■■o 


"3 
Q 


'3 > 
*3 


7 


14. 


8 


9 


9 


14 


10 


16 


11 


15 


12 


21 


13 


IT 


14 


23 


15 


14 


16 


15 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



April 
1908. 



11 to 10. Beautiful clear weather; even the night sky 
clear. Midnight sun first seen. Ice 36 ft. (thick). 
(Another measurement gave 21 feet.) 

Observation before starting, 86.36, 94.2. In spite of 
what seemed like long marches we made only 106 miles 
in 9 days. Much distance lost in crossings. (From 
field paper) bar. 29.50, rising; temp. — 37°; wind mag. 
N. E., 2; clouds St. 3; shadow (6 ft. pole), 32 feet. 

9 A. M. to 5.30 P. M.; snow hard; ice about the same; 
wind cutting; frost bites. Clothes humid. 

10 P. M. to 7 A. M. Working hours changed; big 
marches and long hours no longer possible; snow good; 
ice steadily improving; bodily fatigue much felt; wind 
1—28 W. 

10.30 to 8 A. M. Observation end of March, 87.20, 95.19; 
the pack disturbance of B. Ld. lost; farthest north; 
little crushed ice; old floes less irregular; anxious about 
food; wind 3 W. (true); 300 miles in 24 days; work 
intermittent; too tired to read instruments. (From 
other field notes, Temp. — 39"; bar. 29.90°.) 

11 P. M. to 7 A. M. Thoughts of return. Food 
supply reduced. Hope to economize in warmer weather. 
Very heavy ice. Much like land ice. Wind 2 W. S. W. 
The awful monotony ! 

12 P. M. to 7 A. M. The same heavy glacier-like ice. 

. The occasional soup. 

Hummocks 15-20 ft. Ahwelah in tears at start. W. 
black. Sun under rushing vapors. Ice changes. Leads. 

11 P. M. to 7.10 A. M. 88.21, 95.52. Wind light but 
penetrating. Off the big field, ice smaller. Some open 
leads. Little sign of pressure. Snow soft, but less 
precipitation. Dogs get up better speed. 100 miles 
from Pole. (From other observation papers: Bar. 29.90, 
falling; temp., — 44°; shadow (6 ft. pole) 30y£ feet.) 

10 P. M. to 7 A. M. Ice same. Wind —1, S. W. Work- 
ing to the limit of muscle capacity. So tired and weary 
of the never ceasing tread! 

10.30 to 8 A. M. Ice passed. Several heavy old floes. 
Made 6 crossings. Wind 1—3, W, S. W. 



APPENDIX 



573 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



April 
1908. 



U% 



1SX 



10.15 to 8 A. M. Ice same. Crevasses new. 7 cross- 
ings. Saw several big hummocks. Ice less trouble- 
some. Temp., —40°; bar., 30.00. Sled friction less. 

9 P. M. to 6. Ice, though broken, smooth. The horizon 
line not so irregular as that of more S. ice. Sky and 
ice of a dark purple blue. (Bar. 30.02.) 

11 P. M. to 8 A. M. (Position) 89.31. D. R. 94.03. 
Camp on an old field — the only one on the horizon with 
big hummocks. Ice in very large fields; surface less 
irregular, but in other respects not different from farther 
S. Eskimos told that in two average marches Pole 
would be reached. Extra rations served. Camp in tent. 
(Bar., 29.98; Temp., —46°.) 

8 P. M. to 4 A. M. An exciting run; ice aglow in 
purple and gold; Eskimos chanting. Wind, S. 1 89; 46.45. 
(D. R.) 94.52. New enthusiasm; good march. Temp., 
— 36°; bar. (not legible on notes); course set for 97th. 

1 A. M. to 9 A. M. Observations noon: 89; 59.45; ped. 
14. Camp; sleep in tent short time; after observations 
advance; pitch tent; (also) made camp — snow — pre- 
pared for two rounds of observations. Temp., 37.7°; 
bar., 29.83. Nothing wonderful; no Pole; a sea of 
unknown depth; ice more active; new cracks; open 
leads; but surface like farther south. Overjoyed but 
find no words to express pleasure. So tired and weary! 
How we need a rest! 12, night. Sun seems as high as 
at noon, but in reality is a little higher, owing to its 
spiral ascent. The mental elation — the drying of furs, 
and (making) photos — Eskimos' ideas and disappoint- 
ment of no Pole — thoughts of home and its cheer. But 
oh, such monotony of sky, wind and ice! The dangers 
of getting back. (From other observation papers: 
Temp, ranged from — 36° by mercury thermometer to 
— 39° by spirit thermometer; clouds Alt. St., 1; wind 
mag. S., 1; ice blink E.; water sky, W.; shadow (of 6 
ft. pole) 28 feet.) 

Moved camp 4 m. magnetic S. Made 4 observations for 
altitude; S. at noon, W. at 6, N. at 12M, E. at 6 A. M. 
Ice same; more open water; wind 2-3; temp., — tl°; 
(from field paper) W. S. W., 1 to 2. There are only 
two big hummocks in sight. (Made a series of observa- 
tions for the sun's altitude, 2 on the 21st at the first 
camp, 4 on the 22nd at W. M. camp, and another mid- 
night 22-23. Before we left, deposited tube.) 



574 



APPENDIX 





•B 


1b 




CD *•* 

B > 
S ° 


23 


20 


24 


16 


25 


IS 


26 


14 


27 


14 


28 


14 


29 


13 


30 


15 


1 


18 


2 


12 


3 


13 


4 


14 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



April 
1908. 



May 
1908. 



Start for home. 12.30 to noon. Fairly clear — ice 
smooth, but many new crevasses. Temp., —41°. Course 
for 100 mer. 

11 P. M. to 9 A. M. These records, being made at the 
end of the day's journey, give the doings of the day 
previous — this note for the 24th is in reality written on 
the morning of the 25th, when comfortable in camp. 
Wind 1-2 W. Temp., —36°. Ice smooth— fields larger; 
5 crossings; the pleasure of facing home. 

8-8. Temp., —37°; Wind 1-2 W. S. W.; ice same. The 
worry of ice breaking up for me, signs of joy for the 
Eskimo. 

9 to 7. Still much worried about return; possibility of 
ice disruption and open water near land; wind light; 
ice shows new cracks, but few have opened; seems to 
be little pressure; few hummocks; snow hard and travel- 
ing all that could be desired. 

9.30 to 8. Ice same; wind S. E. 1; good going; cross- 
ings not troublesome; dogs in good spirits; Eskimos 
happy; but all very tired. Temp., — 40°. 

9.15 to 7.45. Ice same; wind 1 W.; snow moderately 
hard; few hummocks and no pressure lines. 

Midnight to 8.45 A. M. Ice more active; fresh cracks; 
some open cracks but no leads. Wind 1 S. 

Midnight to 8 A. M. Ped. registered 121 m. from Pole; 
camp by D. R., 87.59—100; observations 88.01, 97.42. 
Course half point more W. Temp., — 34°. Start more 
westerly. 

12.30 to 9 A. M. Much color to the sunbursts, but the 
air humid; the temperature persistently near —40°, but 
considerable range with the direction of the light winds 
and mists when they come over leads. Much very heavy 
smooth ice — undulating, not hummocky like S. 

2 A. M. to 11 A. M. Fog, clouds and wet air. Temp., 
— 15°. Hard to strike a course. 

1 A. M. to 10 A. M. Thick weather; wind E. 2; ice 
friction less; occasional light snow fall. 

3 to 11 A. M. Air clear but sky obscured; ice very 
good, but hummocks appearing on the horizon. 



APPENDIX 



575 



V 


'a 

X) u 

a > 
S ° 


5 


n 


6 





7 


10 


8 


12 


9 


13 


10 


13 


11 





12 


11 


13 


12 


14 


9 


15 


13 


16 


14 


17 


11 


18 


11 


19 


12 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



May 
1908. 



11 P. M. to 6 A. M. Strong wind; occasional breathing 
spell behind hummocks; squally with drifts. 

In camp. Stopped by signs of storm; tried to build 
igloo but wind prevented; in a collapsed tent for 24 
hours; eat only half ration of pemmican. 

8 A. M. to 3 P. M. Wind detestable; ice bad; life a 
torture; sky persistently obscured; no observations; 
pedometer out of order, only time to gauge our dis- 
tance. 

2 A. M. to 10. Weather bad; windy, S. W.; some 
drift; heavy going. 

I to 8 A. M. (Weather) thick; wind easier; ice in big 
fields; snow a tittle harder, snowshoes steady. 

II P. M. of the 9th to 6 A. M. Heavy going but little 
friction on sled; some drift; see more hummocks. 

May 11. In camp. Strong wind; heavy drift; encircle 
tent with snow blocks. 

12.30 to 8.30 A. M. Wind still strong; cestrugi trouble- 
some, but temperature moderate; sled loads getting 
light 

11 P. M. of 12th, to 7.30 A. M. of 13th. Wind easier, 
S. S. W.; snow harder; ice very thick and very large 
fields; fog. 

3 A. M. to 9 A. M. No sky; strong wind compelled to 
camp early. 

1 A. M. to 10. Fog; ice much crevassed; passed over 
several cracks — some opening. 

May 16. 11 P. M. of the 15th to 6 A. M. CI. 10; wind 
again troublesome; light diffused, making it difficult to 
find footing. 

2 A. M. to 10. Thick; ice more and more broken; 
smaller and more cracked — cracks give much trouble. 

I A. M. to 9.30. Wind more southerly and strong; ice 
separating; some open water in leads. 

II P. M. to 7.30. Wind veering east; fog thicker; 
ice very much broken, but snow surface good. 



576 



APPENDIX 





13 





*c3 


20 


6 


21 


8 


22 





23 


5 


24 


12 


25 


14 


26 


12 


27 


11 


28 


13 


29 


11 


30 


10 


31 


11 


1 


12 



OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



May 
1908. 



June 

1908. 



Midnight to 9 A. M. Open water; active pack; 
almost impossible. 

11 P. M. to 9. Conditions the same; our return seems 
almost hopeless; no observations — cannot even guess at 
the drift. 

In camp. Gale N. E.; temp, high; air wet; ice breaking 
and grinding; worried about the ultimate return; food 
low. 

3 A. M. to 7 A. M. Still squally, but forced a short 
march. 

12 noon to 8 A. M. Short clearing at noon ; the first clear 
mid-day sky for a long time; west still in haze. Water 
sky W. and S. W.; bo land in sight — though the boys 
saw the land later when I was asleep; ice much broken. 
84° 02'— 97° 03'. 

10 P. M. to 6 A. M. Ice better; no wind; thick fog; 
snow hard. Temp., — 10°. 

11 P. M. to 7.4S A. M. Ice in fields of about 1 M. 
somewhat hummocky; crossings hard; no wind. 

11.30 P. M. to 9.30 A. M. Ice same; thick fog. 

12 m. night to 10 A. M. Ice still same; fog; wind 3, 
shifting E. S. E. and S. W. 

11.30 P. M. to 9.30 A. M. As we came here the water 
sky in the southwest to which we had aimed, gradually 
working west, led to a wide open lead, extending from 
north to south, and almost before knowing it, in the 
general plan of the ice arrangement, we found ourselves 
to the east of this lead. Temp, rose to zero. Ice much 
broken; air thick; light vague; impossible to see irregu- 
larities. Food J4 rations; and straight course for Nan- 
sen Sound. 

12 to 11 A. M. Ice in heaps; open water; brash the 
worst trouble; little fog. 

11.15 P. M. to 9 A. M. Ice little better; snow hard; 
sleds go easy; much helping required (over pressure 
lines). 

10.45 to 8. Ice in large fields; many hummocks; few 
heavy fields. 



APPENDIX 



577 






OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 
(Exact copy from original Field Papers) 



10 P. M. to 9 A. M. Ice steadily improving. 

10 P. M. to 8 A. M. Ice begins to show action of sun. 
Temperature occasionally above freezing. 

9.30 P. M. to 7.30 A. M. Fog; ice offering much trouble, 
but friction little and load light. 

9.45 P. M. to 7 A. M. Hummocks exposed to sun have 
icicles. 

In camp. Strong N. W. gale. 

In camp. Gale continues, with much snow; the ice 
about breaks up; anxious about map. (Not knowing 
either drift or position, were puzzled as to proper 
course to set.) 

1 A. M. to noon. Ice bad, but snow hard, and after 
rest progress good; wind still blowing west. 

11 P. M. to 9 A. M. With thick ice and this kind of 
traveling it is hard to guess at distances. 

10.30 P. M. to 8. Bad ice; open leads; still no sun. 

10 P. M. to 8 A. M. Large smooth ice; little snow; 
wind S. W., 1; no fog, but sky still of lead. 

10.30 to 5. Small fields but good going; sky black 
to the east. 

10 to 8 A. M. Fog cleared first time since last observa- 
tion. Land in sight south and east. Heiberg and 
Ringnes Land; water sky; small ice; brash and drift 
eastward. We have been carried adrift far to the south 
and west, and examination of ice eastward proves that 
all is small ice and open water. Heiberg Island is im- 
possible to us. What is our fate? Food and fuel is 
about exhausted, though we still have 10 bony dogs. 
Upon these and our little pemmican we can possibly 
survive for 20 days. In the meantime we must go 
somewhere. To the south is our only hope. 



Note. — June 14 and thereafter to September 1, all notes were briefly 
jotted down in another diary, a collection of loose leaves in which the 
observations of the return were made. This diary was left with the instru- 
ments at Etah with Mr. Whitney. The data, however, had been re-written 
at Cape Sparbo, so that the notes had served their purpose and were of 
no further value when no pretentious publication was anticipated. 

Other notes were made on loose sheets of paper or on leaves of the 
note books. Many of these were destroyed, others were rubbed out to 
make room for recording what was regarded as more important data, and 
a few were retained quite by accident. 



QUESTIONS THAT ENTER CALCULATIONS FOR 
POSITION OF THE NORTH POLE. 

By Frederick A. Cook. 

Much abstruse, semi-scientific and academic material has 
been forced into the polar discussions about proofs by observa- 
tion. The problem presented is full of interesting points, and 
to elucidate these I will ask the reader to go back with me to 
that elusive imaginary spot, the North Pole. Here we find 
no pole — and absolutely nothing to mark the spot for hundreds 
of miles. We are in the center of a great moving sea of ice and 
for 500 miles in every direction it is the same hopeless desert of 
floating, shifting crystal. I believed then that we had reached 
the Pole, and it never occurred to me that there would be a cry 
for absolute proof. Such a demand had never been presented 
before. The usual data of the personal narrative of the ex- 
plorers had always been received with good faith. But let us 
reopen the question and examine the whole problem. 

Is there any positive proof for a problem of this kind? 
Is there any one sure shoulder upon which we can hang the 
mantle of polar conquest ? We are deprived of the usual land- 
marks of terrestrially fixed points. The effort to furnish proof 
is like trying to fix a point in Mid-Atlantic. But here you 
have the tremendous advantage of known compass variation, 
sure time, reasonably accurate corrections. Not only by care- 
ful observation at sea of fixed stars and other astronomical 
data, but by an easy and quick access to and from each shore, 
and by reliable tables for reductions gathered during scores of 
years of experience. 

All this is denied in the mid-polar basins at the time when 
it is possible to arrive there. There is no night, there are no 
stars, and the sun, the only fixed object by which a position 
can be calculated, is not absolutely fixable. It is low, on the 
horizon. Its rays are bent in getting to the recording instru- 
ments while passing through the thick maze of floating iee mist. 
This mist always rests on the pack even in clear days. The 
very low temperature of the atmosphere and the distorting, 



APPENDIX 579 

twisting mirage effect of different strata of air, with radically 
different temperatures, wherein each stratum has a different 
density, carry different quantities of frosted humidity. 

All of this gives to the sunbeam, upon which the calcula- 
tion for latitude and longitude is based, the deceptive appear- 
ance of a paddle thrust into clear water. The paddle in such 
case seems bent. The sunbeam is bent in a like manner, since 
it passes through an unknown depth of refractory air 
for the correction of which no law can be devised until modern 
aerial navigation brings to a science that very complex problem 
of the geography of the atmosphere. For this reason, and for 
others which we will presently show, this whole idea of proof by 
figures as devised by Mr. Peary and the armchair geographers, 
falls to pieces. 

Let us take the noon observation — a fairly certain method 
to determine latitude in most zones of the earth where for 
hundreds of years we have learned to make certain corrections, 
which by use have been incorporated as laws in the art of 
navigation. About five minutes before local noon the sea cap- 
tain goes to the bridge with sextant in hand. His time is 
certain, but even if it were not, the sun rises and sets and 
therefore changes its altitude quickly. The captain screws the 
sun down to a fixed angle on his sextant; he puts the instru- 
ment aside; then takes it up again, brings the sun to the 
horizon, examines his instrument. The sun has risen a little 
further; it is not yet noon. This is repeated again and again, 
and at last the sun begins to descend. It is now local noon. 
This gives a rough check for his time. There is a certain sure 
moment for his observation at just the second when it is 
accurate, — when the sun's highest ascent has been reached. 
Such advantages are impossible when nearing the Pole. The 
chronometers have been shooting the shoots of the pack for 
weeks. The sudden changes of temperature also disturb the 
mechanism, and therefore time, that very important factor upon 
which all astronomical data rest, is at best only a rough guess. 
For this reason alone, if for no other, such as unknown refrac- 
tion and other optical illusions, the determination of longitude 
when nearing the Pole becomes difficult and unreliable. All 
concede this, but latitude, we are told by the armchair observer, 
is easy and sure. Let us see. 

The time nears to get a peep of the sun at noon, but what 



580 APPENDIX 

is local noon? The chronometers may be, and probably are, 
far off. And there is no way to correct even approximately. 
I do not mean on hours, but there may be unknowable differ- 
ences of minutes, and each minute represents a mile. Let us 
see how this affects our noon observation. Five or ten minutes 
before local noon the observer levels his artificial horizon and 
with sextant in hand lies down on the snow. A little drift and 
nose bleaching wind complicate matters. The fingers are cold ; 
the instrument must be handled with mittens ; the cold is such 
that at best a shiver runs up the spine, the eye blinks with 
snow glitter and frost. The arms, hands and legs become stiff 
from cold and from inaction. He tries exactly what the sea 
captain does in comfort on the bridge, but his time is a guess, 
he watches the sun, he tries to catch it when it is highest, 
but this is about as difficult as it is to catch a girl in the act of 
winking when her back is turned. 

The sun does not rise and set as it does in temperate 
climes — it circles the horizon day and night in a spiral ascent 
so nearly parallel to the line of the horizon that it is a practical 
impossibility to determine by any possible means at hand when 
it is highest. One may He on that snow for an hour, and 
though steadied with the patience of Job, the absolute deter- 
mination of the highest point of the sun's altitude or the local 
noon is almost a physical impossibility. 

This observation is not accurate and gives only results of 
use in connection with other calculations. These results at 
best are also subject to that unknown allowance for really 
great atmospheric refraction. The geographic student will, I 
am sure, agree that against this the magnetic needle will offer 
some check, for if you can be certain that when the needle 
points to a positive direction, then it is a simple matter to get 
approximate time with it and the highest noon altitude; but 
since the correction for the needle, like that of latitude and 
longitude, is based on accurate time, and since it is further 
influenced by other local and general unknown conditions — 
therefore even the compass, that sheet anchor of the navigator, 
is as uncertain as other aids to fixing a position in the polar 
basin. 

In making such observations an artificial horizon must be 
used. This offers an uncontrollable element of inaccuracy in all 
Arctic observations when the sun is low. 



APPENDIX 581 

My observations were made with the sun about 12° above 
the horizon. At this angle the image of the sun is dragged 
over the glass or mercury with no sharp outlines, a mere streak 
of light, and not a perfect, sharp-cut image of the sun which 
an important observation demands. 

Mr. Peary's altitudes were all less than 7°. I challenge 
any one to produce a clear cut image of the sun on an artificial 
horizon with the sun at that angle. All such observations 
therefore are unreliable because of imperfect contact, for which 
there can be no correction. 

The question of error by refraction is one of very great 
wnportance. In the known zones the accumulated lesson of ages 
has given us certain tables for correction, but even with these 
advantages few navigators would take an observation when the 
sun is but 7° above the horizon and count it of any value 
whatever. 

In the Arctic the problem of refraction presents probable 
inaccuracies, not of seconds or minutes, but possibly of degrees. 
Every Arctic traveler has seen in certain atmospheric condi- 
tions a dog enlarged to the image of a bear. A raven fre- 
quently looks like a man, and a hummock, but 25 feet high, a 
short distance away, will at times rise to the proportions of a 
mountain. Mirages turn things topsy-turvy, and the whole 
polar topography is distorted by optical illusions. Many ex- 
plorers have seen the returning sun over a sea horizon after the 
long night one or two days before the correct time for its 
reappearance. This gives you an error in observations which 
can be a matter of 60 miles. 

Here is a tangle in optics, which cannot under the present 
knowledge of conditions be elucidated, and yet with all these 
disadvantages, the group of armchair geographers of the Na- 
tional Geographic Society pronounces a series of sun altitudes 
less than 7° above the horizon as proof positive of the attain- 
ment of the Pole. Furthermore these men are personal friends 
of Mr. Peary, and the society for whom they act is financially 
interested in the venture which they indorsed. 

Is this verdict based upon either science or justice, or 
honor? 

In response to a public clamor for a peep at these papers, 
a more detestable unfairness was forced on the public. The 
venerable director of the Coast and Geodetic Survey, who was 



582 APPENDIX 

one of Mr. Peary's jurors, instead of showing his hand, and 
thus freeing himself from a dishonest entanglement, asked his 
underlings, H. C. Mitchell and C. R. Duval, to stoop to a 
dishonor to veil the humbug previously perpetrated. Under 
the instruction of their chief, the first figures of Mr. Peary's 
sextant readings\ have been taken, and by manipulating these 
they have helped Mr. Peary by saying that their calculation 
placed Mr. Peary within two miles of the Pole. 

Perhaps Mr. Peary was at the pin-point of the Pole, but 
when he allows his friends to use questionable methods to give a 
false security to his claim, then his claim is insecure indeed. 

Mitchell and Duval took the sextant readings at face value. 
If Mr. Peary or his computers had frankly admitted the uncer- 
tainty of the grounds upon which these sextant readings rested, 
then one would be inclined to grant the benefit of doubt; but 
as was the case regarding the verdict of the National Geo- 
graphic Society, the public was carefully excluded from a 
knowledge of the shaky grounds upon which these calculations 
are based. The impossibility of correct time and adequate 
allowance for refraction render such figures useless as proof of 
a position. But what about the image of the sun upon the 
artificial horizon? 

An important observation demands that this should be 
sharp and clear, otherwise the observation is worthless. Mitchell 
and Duval have surely thought of this. Perhaps they have 
tried an experiment. As real scientific students they should 
have experimented with the figures with which they played. If 
the experiment has not been made they are incompetent. In 
either case a trick has been used to bolster up the deceptive 
verdict of the National Geographic Society. 

A dish of molasses, a bull's eye lantern and a dark room are 
all that is necessary to prove how the public has been deceived 
by men in the Government pay as scientific computers. With 
the bull's eye as the sun, the molasses or any other reflecting 
surface as a horizon, with the light striking the surface at less 
than 7 degrees, as Mr. Peary's sun did, it will be found that the 
sun's image is an oblong streak of light with ill-defined edges. 
Such an image cannot be recorded on a sextant with sufficient 
accuracy to make it of any use as an observation. Mitchell and 
Duval must know this. If so, they are dishonest, for they did 
not tell the public about it. If they did not know it they are 



APPENDIX 583 

incompetent and should be dismissed from the Government 
service. 

With all of these uncertainties a course which gives a 
workable plan of action can be laid over the blank charts, but 
there always remains the feebly guarded mystery of the ice 
drift. When the course is set, the daily run of distance can be 
checked by estimating speed and hourly progress with the 
watches. Against this there is the check of the pedometer or 
some other automatic measure for distance covered. The short- 
ening night shadows and the gradual coming to a place where 
the night and day shadows are of about equal length is a 
positive conviction to him who is open to self-conviction, as a 
polar aspirant is likely to be. But frankly and candidly, when 
I now review one and all of these methods of fixing the North 
Pole, or the position of a traveler en route to it, I am bound 
to admit that all attempt at proof represented by figures is 
built on a foundation of possible and unknowable inaccuracy. 
Figures may convince an armchair geographer who has a pre- 
conceived opinion, but to the true scientist with the many 
chances for mistakes above indicated there is no real proof. 
The verdict on such data must always be "not proven" if the 
evidence rests on a true scientific examination of material which 
at best and in the very nature of things is not checked by the 
precision which science demands. The real proof — if proof is 
possible — is the continuity of the final printed book that gives 
all the data with the consequent variations. 

FROM A CRITICAL REVIEW OF THE POLAR CLAIMS IN A 

FORTHCOMING BOOK 

By Captain Thomas F. Hall of Omaha, Neb. 

DR. COOK'S VALID CLAIM. 

Cook's narrative has been before the public nearly two years. It has 
been subject to the most minute scrutiny that invention, talent and money 
could give. It is to-day absolutely unscathed. Not one item in it from 
beginning to end has been truthfully discredited. It stands unimpeached. 
Mud enough has been thrown. Bribery and conspiracy have done their 
worst. A campaign of infamy has been waged, and spent its force; but 
not one solitary sentence has been proven wrong. Musk-ox fakes, starved 
dogs, fictitious astronomical or other calculations may have some effect on 
popular opinion; but they hare none on the actual facts. They do not 
budge the truth a hair's breadth and they do not make history. 

Cook's claim to the Discovery of the North Pole is as sound and as 
valid as the other claims of discovery, or the achievement of any one 
preceding him in the Arctic or the Antarctic. 



584 APPENDIX 

Each the eye witness of the other's success. — Verdict of Rear -Admiral 
W. S. Schley. 

1836 I Street, 
Washington, D. C, 
Jan. 7th, 1911. 
Dear Dr. Cook: 

... .1 would assure you 

that I have never varied in the belief that you and Civil Engineer Peary 
reached the Pole. After reading the published accounts daily and critically, 
of both claimants, I was forced to the conclusion from their striking simi- 
larity that each of you was the eye witness of the other's success. 

Without collusion it would have been impossible to have written ac- 
counts so similar, and yet in view of the ungracious controversy that has 
occurred since that view (collusion) would be impossible to imagine. 

While I have never believed that either of you got within a pin-point 
of the Pole, I have steadfastly held that both got as near the goal as 
was possible to ascertain considering the imperfections of the instruments 
used and the personal errors of individuals under circumstances as adverse 
to absolute accuracy. 

Again I have been broad enough in my views to believe that there was 
room enough at the Pole for two; and never narrow enough to believe that 
only one man got there. 

I believe that both are entitled to the honor of the achievement. 

Very truly yours, 

(Signed) W. S. Schley. 
Dr. Frederick A. Cook, 
New York City. 



POSITIVE PROOF OF DR. COOK'S ATTAIN- 
MENT OF THE POLE 

Bv CAPTAIN EVELYN BRIGGS BALDWIN 

METEOEOLOGIST PEABY EXPEDITION, 1893-4, SECOND-IN-COM- 
MAND WELLMAN EXPEDITION 1898-9, AND OESANIZEE AND 
LEADEE OP THE BALDWTN-ZIEGLEB POLAE EXPEDITION, 
1901-2, ETC. 

I can prove the truth of Dr. Cook's statements in regard 
to his discovery of the North Pole from Peary's own official 
record of his last dash to the Northward. 

So far as I can learn, Dr. Cook has never made a "con- 
fession" in regard to his trip to the Pole in the sense that he 
denied his first statements. He has merely said that, in view of 
the great difficulty in determining the exact location of the 
Pole, he may not have been exactly upon the northernmost 
pin-point of the world. Peary, under pressure at the Congres- 
sional investigation, was forced to admit the same. 

For three hundred years there has been a rivalry among 
civilized men to be the first to reach the North Pole. I believe 
that the honor of having succeeded in the attempt should go — 
not to Peary — but to the man who reached the Pole a year 
before Peary claims to have been there. 

Dr. Cook is now in New York City, and I have talked with 
him several times recently. With the information that I my- 
self have gathered, I believe that he really did reach the Pole, 
or came so close to that point that he is entitled to the credit 
of the Pole's discovery. 

Bradley Land is located between latitude 84 and 85. 
It was discovered by Cook in his Poleward march. The land 
ice, or glacial ice, which Cook also discovered, is located be- 




THE LAND-DIVIDED ICE-PACK REPORTED BY PEARY 
PROVES COOK'S ATTAINMENT OF THE POLE 



APPENDIX 687 

tween latitude 87 and latitude 88. Cook's line of march car- 
ried him thirty or forty miles to the east of Bradley Land and 
then upon the glacial ice. The proximity to the new land 
gave Cook a favorable land-protected surface upon which to 
travel, and also afforded him protection from gales and from 
the consequent movements of the pack-ice westward of the new 
lands. Cook traveled in the lee of the groups of islands and 
over ice floes more stationary than the ice farther to the east, 
over which Peary traveled. 

Evidence of Cook's Travels 

A critical examination of Peary's book not only reveals 
a remarkable corroboration of Cook's discovery of Bradley 
Land and the glacial island north of it, but also seems to indi- 
cate the existence of islands farther west between the same 
parallels of latitude. 

Referring to page 250, when beyond the 86th parallel, 
Peary says : "In this march there was some pretty heavy going. 
Part of the way was over some old floes, which had been broken 
up by many seasons of unceasing conflict with the winds and 
tides. Enclosing these more or less level floes were heavy pres- 
sure ridges over which we and the dogs were obliged to climb." 
In other words, the floes which Peary describes in this part of 
his journey clearly indicate that they were just such floes as 
one would expect to find after having passed through a group 
of islands, and, therefore, contrasting naturally with the im- 
mense size of the floes which both Cook and Peary traversed 
north of the 88th parallel. 

Beginning with page 258, we have a most instructive de- 
scription by Peary of the ice between the parallels wherein 
Cook locates the glacial ice and upon which he traveled for two 
days. It is such ice as one would expect to find after having 
passed around the north and south ends of an island from forty 
to sixty miles to the westward. This particular area Peary des- 
ignates as a veritable "Arctic Phlegethon," and it is inconceiv- 
able to believe in this Phlegethon without also believing in the 



588 APPENDIX 

existence of the glacial ice, as located and described by Dr. 
Cook. Let us, therefore, examine Peary's narrative minutely. He 
says, on page 259, "When I awoke the following day, March 
28, the sky was apparently clear ; but, ahead of us, was a thick, 
smoky, ominous haze drifting low over the ice, and a bitter 
northeast wind, which, in the orthography of the Arctic, plainly 
spelled 'Open Water'. . . ." 

Also, on the same page: "After traveling at a good rate 
for six hours along Bartlett's trail, we came upon his camp be- 
side a wide lead, with a dense black, watery sky to the north- 
west, north and northeast." 

Again, on page 260: ". . . The break in the ice had 

occurred within a foot of the fastening of one of my dog teams, 

Bartlett's igloo was moving east on the ice raft, which 

had broken, and beyond it, as far as the belching fog from the 

lead would let us see, there was nothing but black water." 

Finally, on page 262, Peary says: "This last march had 
put us well beyond my record of three years before, probably 
87° 12'. The following day, March 29, was not a happy 
one for us. Though we were all tired enough to rest, we 
did not enjoy picnicing beside this Arctic Phlegethon which, 
hour after hour, to the north, northeast and northwest, seemed 
to belch black smoke like a prairie fire. . . . Bartlett 
made a sounding of one thousand two hundred and sixty 
fathoms, but found no bottom." 

In the foregoing we have positive proof that this almost 
open water area was not caused by shoals at that immediate 
point. 

Peary's concern as regards this big hole in the ice-pack is 
set forth further on page 265, as follows: "The entire region 
through which we had come during the last four marches was 
full of unpleasant possibilities for the future. Only too well 
we knew that violent winds, for only a few hours, would send 
the ice all abroad in every direction. Crossing such a zone on 
a journey north is only half the problem, for there is always 
the return to be figured on. Though the motto of the Arctic 
must be 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' we ardently 



APPENDIX 589 

hoped there might not be violent winds until we were south of 
this zone again on the return." 

From this it is apparent that Peary realized fully the per- 
manent character of this Phlegethon over which he was trav- 
eling. With astonishing persistency, he refers again and again 
to this particular locality. Quoting from page 303, when on 
his return march, he says: "There was one region just above 
the 87th parallel, a region about fifty-seven miles wide, which 
gave me a great deal of concern until we had passed it. Twelve 
hours of strong wind blowing from any quarter excepting the 
north would have turned that region into an open sea. I 
breathed a sigh of relief when we left the 87th parallel behind." 

And, as though the Phlegethon had not already been suf- 
ficiently described, on page 307 we find recorded: "Inspired by 
our good fortune we pressed on again completing two marches, 
and when we camped we were very near the 87th parallel. The 
entry that I made in my diary that night is perhaps worth quot- 
ing: "'Hope to reach the Marvin Igloo (86° 38') to- 
morrow. I shall be glad when we get there on to the big ice 
again. This region here was open water during February and 
the early part of March and is now covered with young ice 
which is thoroughly unreliable as a means of return. A few 
hours of a brisk wind east, west, or south, would make this en- 
tire region open water for some fifty to sixty miles north and 
south, and an unknown extent east and west. Only calm 
weather or a northerly wind keeps it practicable.' " 

Absolute Proof of Cook's Claim 

From the foregoing it is self-evident that Peary's observa- 
tions by sextant could not be more corroborative of Cook's 
latitude than that the Phlegethon is proof of the existence of 
a glacial island between the same two parallels traversed by both 
explorers. Cook had discovered the cause, and Peary followed 
to discover the effect of that cause. To one familiar with the 
conditions of ice-floes in the vicinity of islands in the Arctic 
the reasons for this are as clear as it would be to the lay mind 



590 APPENDIX 

should it be suddenly announced that on a certain date 
an astronomer had discovered the head of a comet, which 
being doubted by rival investigators, might lead to the un- 
happy discrediting of the original discoverer; but should it be 
as suddenly announced that a rival astronomer had observed 
the tail of a comet in the same locality there would quite cer- 
tainly follow a reversal of public sentiment. 

Evidence of His Travels 

Of first importance also in proving the existence of new 
lands discovered by Cook is the evidence derived from the ex- 
istence of animal life, since Arctic game clings close to the 
shore line in its search for food. Birds must find their nesting 
places on lands. Foxes live upon birds and the refuse left in 
the trails of polar bears and seals. Seals feed upon shrimps 
and find the chief source of food in waters close to the land. 
Polar bears in turn feed upon seals, and necessarily are found 
more numerously about lands or islands. 

For this reason we will examine Peary's official narrative 
of his journey north for evidence of Dr. Cook's discovery of 
land to within 2° of the North Pole. Having noted 
Dr. Cook's statement relative to the blow hole of a seal near 
Bradley Island, we will follow in Peary's trail for corrobora- 
tion of Cook's journey eleven months previous, and a com- 
paratively short distance westward of Peary's line of march. 
Referring to Peary's "North Pole" on page 249, while in lati- 
tude 85° 48' he records : 

"While we were engaged in this business we saw a seal 
disporting himself in the open water of the lead." 

Still farther along, when in latitude 86° 13', Peary 
states, on page 252: "Along the course of one of those leads 
we saw the fresh tracks of a polar bear going west." 

Animal Teails Verify Cook's Repoet 

Arctic travelers will well appreciate the force of this state- 
ment relative to the polar bear, who, scenting the land a few 



APPENDIX 591 

miles to the westward, was in search of seals. The freshness of 
the bear's tracks is proof that it had not drifted on some ice floe 
from remote parts of the Arctic basin. 

Again, referring to page 257, we find that Peary while 
traveling through deep snow March 28, records : "During the 
day we saw the tracks of two foxes in this remote and icy wil- 
derness, nearly two hundred and forty nautical miles beyond 
the northern coast of Grant Land." 

It is worthy of note that Peary does not state just how 
far from the glacial or land ice upon the submerged island over 
which Cook traveled the fox tracks were. But it is evident 
that the foxes were less than two sleeps from land, since Peary 
states that Marvin's observation placed them in about latitude 
86° 38', the very latitude in which Cook traveled upon the sta- 
tionary land ice. 

Still again, page 307, while on his return march and near 
the 88th parallel Peary observes: "Here we noticed some fox 
tracks that had just been made. The animal was probably 
disturbed by our approach. These are the most northerly 
animal tracks ever seen." 

Certainly. Why not? Since they were so near the north- 
ern termination of the land ice discovered by Dr. Cook. In 
this connection it is also important to remark that between 
latitude 88 and his approximate approach to the Pole, Dr. 
Cook makes no mention of animal life, and this is corroborated 
by Peary's own statement that he observed no tracks of animals 
beyond the 88th parallel. Thus Peary corroborated Cook by 
the very absence of animal life in the very region where Cook 
states he saw no land. 

Peary's Statements Prove Cook's 

On Peary's return journey he states that as they ap- 
proached Grant Land the fresh tracks of foxes and other evi- 
dences of animal life were very numerous. And if the nearness 
of land was evidenced in this case it is also clear that the tracks 
and appearance of animals on his journey in the high latitudes 



592 APPENDIX 

should be given equal weight as evidence of the lands discovered 
by Cook. 

The line of deep sea soundings taken by Peary from Cape 
Columbia northward indicates a steady increase in depth to 
latitude 84° 24', where the lead touched bottom at eight hun- 
dred and twenty-five fathoms, until, in latitude 85° 23', the 
sounding showed a depth of but three hundred and ten fathoms. 
Referring to this, we find that Peary says, on page 338 of his 
narrative: "This diminution in depth is a fact of considerable 
interest in reference to the possible existence of land to the 
westward." 

It seems to me that it is not impertinent to remark that this 
land to the westward was scarcely two sleeps distant, as Dr. 
Cook has steadfastly maintained. Finally, on page 346, Peary 
says: "Taking various facts into consideration it would seem 
that an obstruction (lands, islands or shoals) containing nearly 
half a million square statute miles probably exists, and another 
at or near Crocker Land," 

More Accueate Observations by Cook Than by Peary. 

And this is all that Dr. Cook claims in his location of land 
to the northward of the very Crocker Land to which Peary 
alludes. 

As to Dr. Cook's and Peary's observations when in the 
immediate vicinity of the Pole, I would call attention to the 
following facts: Cook's determination by the sextant of the 
sun's altitude was made April 21, 1908 ; Peary's final observa- 
tions were taken April 7 of the following year. The sun being 
thus two weeks higher at the time Cook made his observations, 
he was able to secure a more accurate series of altitudes, and 
this will have an important bearing in substantiation of his 
claims. 

Considering the difficulty which Peary has had in proving 
whether he was at 1.6 miles from the Pole on the Grant Land 
side or the Bering Strait side, and whether he was ten or fifteen 
miles away, I think Dr. Cook was justified in saying that, al- 



APPENDIX 593 

though he believed he was at the North Pole, he is not claiming 
that he had been exactly at the pin-point of the North Pole. 
At any rate, it places Dr. Cook in the position of endeavoring 
to tell the truth. 

In this connection I feel like replying to a criticism which 
Mr. Grosvenor, editor of the National Geographic Magazine, 
published over his own signature immediately following Dr. 
Cook's return from the Pole. "Cook's story reads like that of a 
man who had filled his head with the contents of a few books on 
polar expeditions and especially the writings of Sverdrup." 

Armchair Criticisms Unfair 

Now, since Sverdrup is a real navigator, having accom- 
panied Nansen during his three years' drift on the Fram, and, 
following this, having himself organized and led an expedition 
during three years to the westward of Grinnell Land, in the 
course of which he discovered and charted, in 1902, Heiberg 
Land and contiguous islands (which, however, Peary charted 
four years later and named Jessup Land), I do not consider 
Mr. Grosvenor's armchair criticism of the writings of Capt. 
Sverdrup and of Dr. Cook quite in keeping with the principles 
of a square deal and fair play. 

Among the reasons which Peary assigns for doubting 
Dr. Cook is one pertaining to the original records which Dr. 
Cook unwillingly left at Etah. The leaving behind of these 
papers, according to Peary, was merely a scheme on Cook's 
part, so that he might claim they had been lost or destroyed 
and thus escape being forced to produce them in substantiation 
of his claim. Recently, when I asked Dr. Cook about this, his 
reply was: "This does not sound very manly. If this was 
so in Peary's belief, why did he not bring them back? Here 
was absolute proof in his own hands. Why did he bury it?" 

Armchair geographers and renegades may endeavor to 
discredit Dr. Cook, but the seals and polar bears and little foxes 
will bear testimony of unimpeachable character to substantiate 
his claims as the discoverer of the North Pole. The reading 



594 APPENDIX 

public will not forget that when Paul Du Chaillu, returning 
from his expedition to Africa, reported the discovery of the 
pigmies, he was denounced as a faker and a liar. For three 
years Du Chaillu, as he has told me himself, sought in vain to re- 
establish his credibility, and when at the end of that time he 
succeeded in bringing some of the pigmies and exhibiting them 
before the scientific bodies of the world, then the "doubting 
Thomases" were obliged to give him credit as the discoverer of 
the African dwarfs. The yellow press and sensation mongers 
will decry Dr. Cook as they did Du Chaillu, for some years to 
come, but Arctic explorers endorse him to-day. 

Rear Admiral W. S. Schley, General A. W. Greely, Cap- 
tain Otto Sverdrup, Captain Roald Amundsen, and all the 
world's greatest explorers have indorsed Dr. Cook. 

I have seen Dr. Cook's original field notes, his observa- 
tions, and the important chapters of his book, wherein his claim 
is presented in such a way that the scientific world must accept 
it as the record and the proof of the greatest geographic ac- 
complishment of modern times. 

Putting aside the academic and idle argument of pin-point 
accuracy — the North Pole has been honestly reached by Dr. 
Cook 350 days before anyone else claimed to have been there. 

(Signed) Evelyn Bkiggs Baldwin. 



INDEX 



INDEX 

Aepohon, Trail Along, 183; "The Auckland, Cape, 60 

Land of Guillemots," 191 Auks, 62 

Acponie Island, SO Auroras, 113 

Adams, Captain, 468; Peary Sup- A xel Heiberg Land, 193, 194, 201, 212, 

pressed Letter Presented by, 346, 327, 329, 333 

459, 487, 489 

Advance Bay, 106 Bache Peninsulaj Headed for> 158j 
Ah-tah, Turns Away Ma-nee, 58 4,35 

Ah-we-lah, Told Bartlett That Ob- Baffin's Bay, 362 

servations Were Made, 13, 189; Baldwin Captain Evelyn B., 135, 540, 

Chosen for Dash to Pole, 196; 564. 

Sure" of Nearness of Land, 225, *,.-,.„.. ^,1. j, ,■ 

230, 269, 270, 284, 293, 307, 327, Baldvvm-Zeigler, Cache of Supplies 

335; Prevents Boat From Sink- Left b F' 303 

ing, 366, 385, 399; Recounts Re- Bancroft Bay, 103 

markable Journey to the Pole, Bangor, 483 

452 Barrill Affidavit, 13, 14, 522, 523, 524 

Ahwynet, 96 Bartlett, Capt. Robt. A., Learns from 

Alaskan Wilds, 29 Eskimos That Observations Were 

Alexander, Cape, 65, 117, 122, 152 Made, 13; Assisted Peary in His 

Al-leek-ah, 95 Ues > 485 » 558 ' 5G0 > 563 - 

American Legation, 469 Bathurst Land, 337 

a™ „a t> :„„.,,„. t „*.a qoq Battle Harbor, Arrival at, 31; Ques- 
Amund Rmgnes Land, 329 tiong p rep ' ared by p eary at ^ 48 3 5 

Anderson, Mr., 460 489, 557 

Annoatok, 25; Supplies Stored at, 30; Bay, Baffin's, 302; Bancroft, 103; 

Started for, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71; Braebugten, 358, 377; Buchanan, 

First Day at, 75; Erected a 77; Cannon, 162; Dallas, 103, 104; 

House of Packing Boxes at, 76, Flagler, 154, 161, 168; Melville, 

79, 83, 84, 85, 104, 110, 117, 152, 38; Entered, 39, 42, 44, 45; North 

157, 194, 195, 226, 312, 336, 379, Star, 46; Anchored in, 50, 462; 

437, 442, 443, 447, 451, 456 Olriok's, 59, 63; Pioneer, 314; 

Antarctic Exploration, 28 Robertson, 63; Sontag, 451 

Arctic, Bradley, Expedition, 24, 27 Bay Fiord, Overland to, 162, 168 

Arctic Circle Crossed, 34 Bear Hunting, 177, 184, 189, 432 

Armbruster, Professor W. F., Defense Belcher Point, Passed, 361, 362 

of Dr. Cook by, 490 Belgian Antarctic Expedition, 28, 497 

Armour of Chicago, Food Supplies Belle Isle, Straits of, Entering, 31 

by, 135 Bennett, James Gordon, Cable to, 464, 

Arthur Land, 191 • 465; Selling Narrative Story to, 

Ashton, J. M., 526, 530 491 > 942 > 493 

Astrup, Eivind, Death of, 38, 511, Bernier, Captain, 448, 516 

515, 560 Berri, Herbert, 502 

Atholl, Cape, Sailed Around, 46 Berry, Robert M., 478 



598 INDEX 

"Big Lead," Peary's Eskimos Become 78; Sparbp, 3.44, 355, 357, 363, 

Panic-Stricken at, 11; Dr. Cook 3J34, 377, 378, 413, 497; Tennyson, 

Reaches the Shores of, 217; Cross- 407, 428, 429; "Thomas Hub- 

ing the, 221, 222, 224, 250 hard," 201 ; Veile, 154, 161 ; Vera, 

"Big Nail," 85, 243 343, 352, 353; York, 44, 454, 455 

Blethen, J., 527 Cardigan Strait, 350 

Bonsall Island, 106 Caribou Hunting, 109 

Booth Sound, 453 Chester, Rear-Admiral, 502, 543, 544 

Borup, George, 485, 486 Christiansaand, 476 

Bradley, John R., Compact Made for Clarence, Cape, 429 

Expedition, 24; Expedition, 29; Coast and Geodetic Survey, 488 

Join Party, 31 ; Called to Action, Coburg Island 428 

51 ; Assumed Direction, 53 ; Shoots „,»?». L 

Duck, 54, 537 Cold > Director, 477 

"Bradley! John R," S. S., Sailed July c °l um bus, Christopher, 7 

3, 1907, 23; Going Northward, Conger, Port, Party Left by Peary 
28; Aboard the, 30; Sailing Qual- to Die of Cold and Hunger at, 

ities of the, 31 4 ^* 

Bradley Land, 246, 249; Positive Congress, Investigation of, Admission 
Proof of, 251 of Peary Witnesses in, 15, 18, 547 

Braebugten Bay, 358, 377 Contracts, Book, 494 

Breton, Cape, 30 Controversy, Polar, 5 

Bridgeford, 527 Cook, Mrs., 478 

Bridgman, Herbert L., Kitchen Ex- Copenhagen, 12, 15, 244, 465, 466, 476, 
plorer, 13, 77, 78, 502, 529, 557 479 > 482 > 494 > 497 > 538 » s39 » 540, 

Bridges, Thomas, Yahgan Dictionary, „ 5 * 9 ' S50 ' 551 ' SS7 ' S63 

497, 498 Copenhagen, University of, 549, 562 

Brooklyn Dairy Business, 27 Cornell University, 485 

Brooke's Island, 106 Crocker Land, 226, 490, 559 

Brown, Belmore, 524 Crown Prince Gustav Sea, 329, 336 

Buchanan Bay, 77 Crystal Palace Glacier, 451 
Bushwick Club, 481 

r> • ^ • . t, , „„ Dahl, Charles, 456 

L>airn Point, Passed, 68 _. ,, „ ,„„,„, 

7! * » ., „r. ™ Dallas Bay, 103, 104 

Camped for the Winter, 393 ,-, n ...... „ ., „,,. 

r ts iro Danes, Hospitality of the, 515 

~ ™ , ~~ Danish Literary Expedition, 453, 515 

Cannon Fiord, 203 _, ... . . „. .. ' . .. r , „, 

^ ., 7 -r, ,„..._.„„ Davis Straits, Entered, 31 

Cape Alexander; Passed, 65, 117, 122, -, , . , „ „ ,, m_ «. j •_ 

152; Athol, Sailed Around, 46; Derrick, Dr Harshly Treated by 
Auckland, 60; Breton, 30; Clar- Ve ™?> «*> 4S4 * S1S 

ence, 429; Faraday, 429, 430; De Gerlache, 134 

Hatherton, 167; Inglefield, 68; "Devil's Thumb," 456 

Isabella, 428; Louis Napoleon, Dia i shadow, at the Pole, 308 

435; Paget, 428; Parry, 59; Rob- tv „ T , , „ „. , . , ' 

ertson, Proceeded to, 61, 62; Dlsco > Island of ' Sl S hted > M 

Rutherford, 159; Sabine, Note Diindas Island, 337 

Left at, 149, 150, 154, 157, 158, Dunkle, Faked Observations of, 15, 
161, 336, 426, 431; Tragedies of, 535; Introduced to, 636, 537, 638, 

433, 434; Seiper, 103; Sheridan, 539, 640, 563 



INDEX 599 

Dunkle-Loose Forgery, Explanation Nearness to Land, 225, 230, 270, 

of, 355 279, 284, 293, 307, 327, 335; KUls 

a Walrus, 373; 381; Secures a 

Egan, Dr., 465, 469, 470, 494 gare, 384; An Adept With a 

•■ -j „ r » n «. • Sling Shot, 399; Recounts Re- 

Eggedesminde, 462; First Banquet in mar | able j ourne ' v to the Polej 

Honor of Discovery of the Pole ,.q 
at 4.61 466 

„.„ 7 \ ' A A * o. Q Eureka Sound, Reached, 103, 183, 192 

Eidsbotn, Descended to, 343 ' „„ 

-,„.»». x j om Explorers Club, 529 

Ellef Rmgnes Land, 329 r 

Ellesmere Land, 71; the Promised Faraday, Cape, 429, 430 

Land, 101, 191, 344 Faroe IslandS( 464 

Elsinore, 466 Fenker, Governor, 36 

Endor > 2 Fiala, Anthony, 478, 536 

Equipment, Examination of, 149 Fiord Umanak> Reached> 38 . Bay> 

Enc the Red, 33 Overland to, 162, 168; Snag's, 

"Erik," S. S., Peary Supply Ship, 443, 193 ; Cannon, 203; Musk Ox, 343; 

449, 451, 515 Talbot's, 429 

Eskimos, Delusions of, 11; Testimony Floundering in the Open Sea, 231 

of, 12, 34; Married Life Among Flagler Bay, Advance Supplies Sent 

the, 48; Tents, 49; Bargaining, ° t0j 154) i 61j 168 

49; Study of Walrus Habits, 52; p, ,, w; „,j t?„* ,„,i bb 

Customs Pertaining to Children, Foulke Fl0rd > Entered, 66 

54; Romance, 55; Have No Fox, Arctic, 398 

Salutation, 61; Equality of Chil- Francke, Rudolph, 25; Selected as 

dren and Dogs to the, 63; Pros- Companion to Dr. Cook, 72, 73, 

perity Measured by the Number 79; Hunting, 89, 90; Meat Gath- 

of Dogs, 68; Engaged in Request ered and Dried in Strips by, 114; 

of Reserve Supplies, 85; Making Prepared a Feast, 147, 148; 

Clothes, 90; Gloom When the Asked to Join Party, 153, 155; 

the Long Night Begins, 92; Remained in Charge of Supplies 

Mourning for the Dead, 95; at Annoatok, 204; in Starving 

Dancing, 97; Joy in Killing a Condition Refused Bread and 

Bear, 108; Christmas Festivities, Coffee by Peary, 442; Compelled 

137; Ice Cream, 137; the Coming by Peary to Turn Over Furs and 

of the Stork to the, 142; Love for Ivory, 443, 517 

Children, 145; Belief in Shadows, Franklin Bay Expedition, Lady, 158 

180; Show Anxiety, 206; Ques- _ .,. . .■ „ c j a,? ™« 

tioned by Peary, 206; Comedies Fndt J of Nansen Sound ' 315 > 337 

and Tragedies of the, 322; Weird g^ „ . , ,-. 

Customs of the, 399; Describe Game > Captured, 100 

Trip to Pole, 452; Hostility to Gannett, Henry, 544 

Peary, 454; Put Through the "Gates of Hades," 66 

Third Degree by Peary, 488; Put Gilder, Richard Watson, 112 

?^- B w-,1 ^ ary ' S SWP AgaiDSt dicier, Crystal Palace, 451; Hum- 

their Will, 514 boldt> ^ m 106j 109 . Petowikj 

Etah, 13; Steered for, 64,; Landing Sighted 45 

Difficult at, 69, 70; Eskimos Re- olol *..„. '03 

turn to, 206, 312, 448, 449, 451, 558 „„","'„ „ „ , „,_. .-, 

E-tuk-i-shook, 12; Told Bartlett That °°* 'J\ ' , PP L J' 

Observations Were Made, 13; Godhaven, Sheltered in, 36, 37 

Sights Bears, 183; Chosen for Goggles, Amber-Colored, Used to 

Dash to Pole, 196; 393; Sure of Protect the Eyes, 236 



600 



INDEX 



"Gold Brick," Slurs, 39 

Gore, Professor, 540, 563 

Gramatan Inn, 535 

Grand Republic, 479, 480 

Grant Land, 191, 212, 214, 215, 236 

Great Iron Stone, 513 

Greely Expedition, Camp of, 158; 

Peary Throws Discredit Upon 

the, 433, 515 
Greely, General A. W., 168, 544, 560 
Greely River, 168 
Greenland, Steered for, 31; Interior, 

32, 37, 45, 62, 69, 79, 117, 364, 

408, 433, 436, 489, 497 
Grinnell Land, 191 
Grinnell Peninsula, 337, 342 
Grosvenor, Gilbert, 543, 544 
Gulf, Inglefield, 46, 59; Crossing, 60, 

453; of St. Lawrence, Sailed 

Over, 31 
Gum Drop Story, Explanation of, 30 

Hague Tribunal, The, 441 
Hampton, Benjamin, 546, 553 
Hampton's Magazine, 546, 552, 553 
"Hans Egede," S. S., Sailed on, 464, 

466, 467 
Hansen, Dr. Norman, 462 
Hares, Arctic, 67, 163 
Harry, T. Everett, 552, 554 
Hassel Sound, 329, 334 
Hatherton, Cape, 67 
Hayes, Dr., 66, 223 
Hearst, W. R., Offer From, 491 
Hell Gate, 348; Drifting Towards, 

350, 353 
Henson, Matthew, Statement of, 506, 

559 
Holland House, Compact Made at, 

24 
Holsteinborg, 32 
"Hope," S. S., 513 
Hovgaard, Commander, 468, 473 
"Hubbard, Cape Thomas," 301, 489 
Hubbard, General Thomas, 538, 558 
Humboldt Glacier, 45, 100, 106, 109 



Hunting, Caribou, 109; Bear, 177, 
184, 189, 432; Hare, 67, 89, 163; 
Musk Ox, 171, 184, 378-392; Nar- 
whal, 87; Walrus, 54, 64, 367-373; 
In the Moonlight, 114-139 

Icarus, 43 

Ice, Explosion of, 124 

Iceberg, Adrift on an, 346 

Iceland, 464 

Igloo, Building an, 166 

Ik-wa, the Cruelty of, 55, 56, 57 

Inglefield, Cape, 68 

Inglefield, Gulf, 46, 59; Crossing, 60, 
453 

Instruments, Carried on Journey to 
Pole, 198; Left With Whitney, 
450; Buried, 499 

Investigation of Peary's So-Called 
Proofs, 544, 545 

Isabella Cape, 438 

Island, Bonsall, 106; Brook's, 106; 
Coburg, 438; Disco, 34, 50; Lit- 
tleton, Passing Inside of, 67; 
Dundas, 337; Faroe, 464; North 
Cornwall, 336; Saunders, 54; 
Schei, 185; Shannon, 303; Shel- 
ton, 478; Weyprecht, 159 

Itiblu, Near, 59, 453 

Jensen, Inspector Dougaard, 461, 

463, 464, 497 
Jesup, Mrs. Morris K., 514 
Jones Sound, 334, 343, 383, 396, 406, 

426 

Kraul, Governor, 457, 458, 459, 460, 

461, 497 
Kane Basin, 66, 101 
Kane, Dr., 66 
Kanga, 59 
Karnah, 60 
Kennedy Channel, 66 
King Christian Land, 336 
"King's Guest House," Only Hotel in 

Greenland, 462 
"Kite," S. S., 511 



INDEX 601 

Kbokaan, 63 Mt. McKinley, Affidavit, 18, 14; 

Koo-loo-ting-wah, Leading Man, 101, Scaled, 29, 522; Description of 

105, 108, 109, 184; Took Instruc- ascent, 531, 535, 541 

tions to Francke, 204; Paid by Murchison Sound, 453 

Peary to Abandon Supplies, 448 Museum of Natural History, 513 
Ky-un-a, the Death of, 127 Musk Ox Fiord, 343 

Musk Ox Hunting, 171, 184, 387 
Labrador, 9, 31, 463, 484, 557 My-ah, Disposes of Wives to Gain 

Lancaster Sound, 192, 336, 342, 425 Dogs, 48; Direct Hunting, 51 

Lands-Lokk, 195 Mylius Erickson, 133, 453 

Lerwick, Sent First Ccble to New 

York From, 464 Nansen, introduced the Kayak, 133, 

Lonsdale, 477, 494, 537 495 

Loose, 15; Faked Observations, 535, Nansen Sound, Through, 164, 193, 

537, 538, 539, 540, 563 195, go3 

Louis Napoleon, Cape, 435 Nansen Straits, 77 

Lifeboat Cove, Searched for Relics Narwhal Hunt, Description of, 87 

AIon &> 67 Naval Committee, 10 

Lincoln Land, 191 National Geographic Society, 10, 13, 

Lincoln Sea, 214 540, 541, 542, 544, 549, 561, 564 

Littleton Island, Passing Inside of, Needles, Eskimo, How They are 

67 Made, 91 

Newfoundland Boats, 31 
MacDonald, J. A., Describes the Mt. New York olob 528 

McKinley Ascent, 531, 532, 533 XT ^ . _ * ; ^ „„ 

„, ,,. . T '„ New York Herald, 465, 482, 493, 527, 

McLaughlin, A. J., 563 53g 557 

Ma-nee, the Romance of, 55, 56, 57 New York Timg3> Published Lving 

Mann, Colonel, 13, 529 Document, 15; Peary's Questions 

Marshal, Colonel, 527 Sent to, 483, 521, 540, 557, 561, 
Marvin, Ross, the Suspicious Death 

of, 485; Letters Suppressed, 488 New Yo *k World, 506 

Matin, Paris, offer $50,000, 494 New York » University of, Graduated 

McMillan, Makes False Statements, From ' 27 

484 Nordenskjold, 495 

"Melchior," S. S., 476 Nordenskjold, Expedition, 468 

Melville, Admiral, 502 Nordenskjold System Borrowed by 

Melville Bay, 38; Entered, 39, 42, 44, Pea T> 511 

45, 455 North Cornwall Island, 336 

Meteorite, "Star Stone," Stolen by North Devon, 183, 342, 359, 396, 423 

Peary, 435, 454, 512 North Lincoln, 406 

Mirror, St. Louis, the Only Paper to North Pole, 3, 4, 5, 8, 16, 18, 19, 20, 
Grant Space to Uncover the Un- 21, 24, 30, 74, 155, 284, 287, 310, 

fair Methods of the Pro-Peary 449, 452, 455, 557 

Conspiracy, 490, 491, 492 North star Bajrj 44) 46 . Anchored in, 
Mitchell, Roscoe, 525, 527 50, 462 

"Morning," S. S., 458 Norwegian Bay, 336 

Mountain, Table, "Oomanaq," 46 Nuerke, 447, 451, 453 



602 INDEX 

Observations, 245, 257, 274, 292, 302 Quebec, 553 

Olafsen, Professor, 472 

Olrik's Bay, 59, 63 Rassmussen, Knud, Lived Among 

"Oomanaq," Table Mountain, 46 Eskimos, 46; Heard Story From 

Oomanooi, Village of, Visited, 47, 453 gj*™* ™£ £J?% 

Oscar II, S. S., Sailed on to New Peary and Prophesied Discord, 

York, 475, 476, 477, 494, 495 463 

Rensselaer Harbor, 101 

Paget, Cape, 428 Ri ce Strait, Through, 158 

Palatine Hotel, 554 Roberts, Mr., 548 

Parker, Professor Herschell, 13, 523, Robertson Bay, 63 

524 Robertson, Cape, Proceed to, 61, 68 

Parry, Cape, 59 RobesQn Channd g 

Peary, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 18, «,,„,,,„,„„, r „, Jt„ T ;*« qoi 
19, 20, 27, 28, 38, 39, 77, 112, 131, Roblnson Crusoe Llfe » 391 

200, 212, 244, 253, 433, 438, 439, Rocky Mountains, 33 

440, 441, 443, 444, 447, 448, 451, Rood, Henry, 485 

452, 454, 459, 463, 474, 477, 482, Roosevelt, Stolen Tusk Presented to, 
483, 484, 485, 487, 490, 491, 492, 443 

493, 496, 499, 500, 501, 502, 505, «n nn . gm .n» o c aq Q tm,„«„„i p„ 
506 507, 508 509, 510, 511, 512, Eo °°Zh ♦£ ^ ±Jr £ ? %1 «7 

513; 514! 516, 517, 518! 51^ SM, „ reer oi * he > 444 > 447 ' 451 ' 484 ' S5T 

528, 529, 530, 540, 542, 543, 544, Route to the Pole, 285 

545, 557, 558, 563, 565 Royal Geographical Society, 472, 473, 

Peary, Mrs., 63 475 

Pennsylvania R. R. Station (Wash- Rutherford, Cape, 159 
ington), Casual Examination of 

Peary's Instruments in, 10 Sabine, Cape, Notes Left at, 149, 

Penny Strait, 337 150, 154, 157, 158, 161, 330; 

Petowik Glacier, 45 Tragedies of, 426, 431, 433, 434, 

Phoenix Hotel, Stayed at, 468 , T , , „. 

■C- -a „» „„ Saunders Island, 54 

Pioneer Bay, 340, 341 _, , . T , , ' 

^. , _,... « ■■ - < T . , .. Schei Land, 185 

Polar Ethics, Accused of Violating, „ . , T .,„„,-,,„, 

439 ° Schley Land, 79, 164, 191 

Poe, Edgar Allen, 140 Schlev > Rear-Admiral, 168, 544, 584 

"Polaris," S. S., Stranded in Sinking Schle y River ' 168 

Condition, 67 Schwartz, Dr. Henry, 490 

Pole, Copy of Note Left in Tube at, Seattle Times, 5311 

313 Seiper, Cape, 103 

Pole Star, 136 Ser-wah-ding-wah, 122, 152 

Politiken, 465, 473 Shackleton's Journey to the South 
Pond's Inlet, 425 P°le> 458 

Portland, 560 Shadows at the Pole, 304, 306, 308 

Press, Injustice of the, 19 Shainwald, Ralph L., 469 

Printz, F., 525 Shakespeare, 140 

Proofs, Peary's Demands for, 547, Shelter Island, 478 

548, 549 Shannon Island, 203 



INDEX 603 

Sheridan, Cape, 78 Svartevoeg, 180; Camped South of, 

Schoubye, Captain Henning, 46, 515 |»| ™> ™> »1. *». 247 > ™> 

Sledges, Making of, 138 Sverdrup, Captain Otto, Exploration 

Smith, Mrs., 514 of, 80, 191 ; Mapped Channels by, 

Smith Sound, Entered, 65, 66; Left, 192, 201, 342; Peary Stole the 

71, 104, 122, 150 Honor of the Naming of Svarte- 

Snag's Fiord, 193 voe S From > 489 > 490 ' 516 > 560 

Sontag, Astronomer, Lost Life, 232 m ,, -.„ . . „^ „ .„ 

„ . ° _ . ■•, . X able Mountain, "Oomanaq, 46 

Sontag Bay, 451 * 

Sound, Booth, 453; Eureka, 182, 183, Z???™?' 1. ' " 

193; Fridtjof Nansen, 315, 327; Talbot s Fiord, 429 

Hassfil, 329, 334, 365; Jones, 324, Tassuasak, Arrived at, 456 

342, 383, 396, 406, 426; Lancaster, Temperature of the Body, 324 

192, 336, 4^5; Murchison, 453; Tennyson, Cape 427 498 , 429 

Nansen, Through, 164, 193, 195, „_, f „/ „ ,, ' ' 

203; Smith, Entered, 65, 66; Left, Tent ' The ' Meteorite, 513 

71, 104, 122, 150; Whale, En- Tents, Eskimo, 49 

tered, 59; Wolstenholm, 46; Wal- Thompsen, Professor, 461 

rus Adventure in, 50, 433. ■•'Thumb, The Devil's," 39 

Sparbo, Cape, 344, 355, 357, 363, 364, Tittman O H 544 

377, 378, 413, 497 Torpj p^^ in> &i9> m0 

Speed Limits, Criticized, 502; Peary's, Townsend, Director, of the New York 

Aquarium, Falsely Accused Dr. 

Spitsbergen, 289 Cook of Stealing a Dictionary 

Squint, Boreal, 275 Compiled by Thomas Bridges of 

Stanley, 7, 495 Indian Words ' 497 ' 498 

«04. c. ,. .c,* .*, ,,„ To-ti-o, 107; Joy in Killing of Bear, 

"Star Stone," 435, 454, 512 108 

Stars and Stripes Pinned to the North Xrov 553 

Pole, 287 rr • l „. 

Stead, William T., 467, 468, 491 Tung-wmg-wah, 95 

Steinsby, Professor, 461 Umanak, 449, 461, 462 

St. Lawrence, Gulf of, 31 Umanak Fiord, 38 

St. Louis, Lecture, 496 United Steamship Company, 477 

Stockwell, Professor, 503 Upernavik, Island, Appeared, 38, 

Stokes, Frank Wilbert, 112 206 » 448 > 449 > * 57 » 459 > 461 

Straits, Davis, 31; Belle Isle, Enter- 

ing, 31; Rice, Through, 158; Vai- V aigat Straits, Passed, 38 

gat, Passed, 38; Cardigan, 350 Veile, Cape, 154, 161 

Stromgren, Professor Elis, 472, 550 Vera, Cape, 343, 352, 353 

Stork, Visits at Christmas, 142 Verhoeff, John M., the Death of, 63, 

Supplies, 197; Taken for Journey to S11 ' S1S 

Pole, 198, 199 r Seized by Peary, Vespucci, Amerigo, 7 

444 

Sydney, Harry Whitney, Arrives at, "W"ack, H. Wellington, 527 

12; Journey to, 336, 558, 561 Waldorf-Astoria, Arrived at, 481; 

Svarten Huk, 38 Dinner Given at, 504, 535 



604 INDEX 

Wallace, Dillon, 536 Weapons, Making, 381 

Walrus Hunting, IS, BO, 122, 123, Weche, Handelschef, 461 

367-373; In the Moonlight, 114- Tir , „ . „_ 

129 s Weed, General, 627 

Whale Sound, Entered, 59 Wellington, Channel, 336, 3,40 

Whitney, Harry, 12; Instruments left Weyprecht Island, 159 

with, 244, 437; 111 Treated by Wolstenholm Sound, 46, 50, 453 

Peary's Boatswain Murphy, 445, ,,,.. ~. , T , . _ „ ton 

449, 451; Peary Refused Permis- Worm Dl SS ers Umon ' 539 

sion to Bring From the North Wyckoff, E. G., 471 

Instruments and Data Left in 

His Hands, 497; Forced to Bury 

Instruments, 499, 558 York, Cape, 44, 454, 455 



:p 27 »9» 



